After
by SJWrites2014
Summary: ***SPOILER ALERT for The One . *** (Summary updated, but story is the same.) Years have passed since the wedding... What's next for Maxon and America? They've had their highs and lows, but always managed to protect their family while prospering their kingdom. But what will they do when the cocoon of security begins to crumble and threatens their way of life?
1. Chapter 1

"Maxon?" My voice quavers over the rush of the shower water. I reach for the towel hook on the wall as my vision blackens around the edges. The marble tiles tilt swiftly to meet me as I take a step toward the door. Showering suddenly doesn't seem as good of an idea as it did fifteen minutes ago.

"America!" Someone vigorously shakes my bare shoulder. "America, can you hear me? Open your eyes."

I groan. I gingerly finger a growing goose egg on my forehead as the residual headache works to split my head open. Flinching, I peek through my eyelids to see three sets of warm brown eyes peering into my blue ones. That's not right. I only know one person with those eyes. And he only has one pair. I blink until I see only one concerned face inches from my own. "Maxon." Something warm trickles down my nose, but the rest of me shivers.

"Oh, thank god, Ames," he says, as relief floods his voice.

"Maxon, what am I doing on the floor?"

"I was hoping you could answer that question, my dear," he lets a wry smile play across his lips as moves me into a sitting position. "Did you slip?" He stands to grab my robe from its hook, tenderly wrapping me up against the chill. I watch him wet a cloth in the sink. He kneels back down beside me and begins to wipe blood from my face. I recoil, sucking in air, surprised not only by the amount of red staining the cloth, but by the splintering feeling across my cheekbones.

"I don't think so. One minute I was rinsing shampoo out of my hair, and the next..." I shrug. "You looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you. You've had so many long nights lately, and I wanted to intercept Mary and the breakfast tray. There aren't many mornings that I beat you to the shower." I tuck my wet hair behind my ears and let him inspect his work. He gently tilts my face in his hands.

"You'll live, but just barely," he teases me and plants a kiss on the top of my head, "But I do believe you've broken your nose. Do you think you can stand? We need to take you down to the hospital wing to get you checked out after a fall like that."

"I don't have time for this today, Maxon. The Report is tomorrow night, and I haven't prepared my piece yet. Nicoletta is expected this week, and I have school tours to schedule across the provinces..." I trail off as he helps me to my feet.

"My love, even Nicoletta can wait while the doctor makes sure you didn't crack your skull open. Now, are you walking of your own volition or am I carrying you?" He grins, and takes a step toward me. I know which he'd prefer.

"Can we at least get dressed first? I'm sure the rest of the palace would prefer their monarchs clothed."

He finally laughs outright and crosses his arms across his bare chest, "Yes, my Queen, though your bump grows and your eyes blacken..."

I carefully turn to the mirror and see that he's right-I have matching shiners and my goose egg has taken on a greenish hue and ridiculous proportions. A trickle of blood still follows the line of my nose. "Fine," I grumble. "But help me back into my nightgown."

Maxon steadies me as I throw on a conservative cotton gown and replace the thick soft robe. I balance gingerly on the bed as he quickly covers his strong back in a sweatshirt. Sometimes it is hard for me to believe that we've already been married five years, that The Selection is a treasured but fading memory. Sometimes I forget how truly handsome my husband is. I maneuver along the edge of the bed to stand, but my knees don't want to play nice with my legs and feet. They buckle and I almost fall again.

Without stopping for shoes, Maxon turns and scoops me into his arms. "Let's get you downstairs." Protesting won't work at this point, so I decide to lean into his muscular chest and enjoy the trip. Too bad I had to pass out to spend an extra fifteen minutes with my husband.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**I just wanted to mention that I am really enjoying writing this fan fic. It's my first attempt, and I appreciate all the feedback. **

**piepie1289**** I'm glad. So nervous to put my writing out there. **

**prnamber3909**** Thanks!**

**SelectionLoverForever**** Thanks! I hope to update daily until the story is over. **

**DaughterofSea**** You're right—the summary was a little vague. This is my first Fan Fic, so I'm mostly trying not to make any faux pas! Anyone know how to revise a summary on this platform? ****:)**

**Dan-Four-Lover**** I was feeling the same way! Thanks for reading. I just can't shake this book. ****:)**

The doctor can't keep the smile out of his eyes, but carefully holds the rest of his face blank. My klutziness is notorious in the palace, and I can't help but think that's a good thing for Maxon. Otherwise, everyone from the stable hand to council advisor would whisper about my new facial features. This time, I honestly don't know why this situation is so funny-I didn't bean myself with the door or trip up the stairs or twist my ankle on the garden path. All had earned me appointments with Doc in the last six months. I am actually a little nervous about passing out in the shower.

I carefully touch the bandage on the bridge of my nose and the lump that is beginning to recede on my head. Maxon paces the room, alternately muttering to himself and coming to my bedside to squeeze my hand or touch my hair. It's endearing and irritating at the same time. "Doc's back," I remind him. "He probably has the test results."

Maxon lands back beside me and takes my hand, looking at Doc with his serious "official" expression. "Report. I've never seen a blood draw and an EKG for a broken nose."

"Your Majesty," Doc turned to me, "I went on instinct when ordering additional tests. Vasovagal episodes are not atypical for women your age..."

I raise an eyebrow at that statement, and heat flushes my cheeks. I suddenly know what he is going to say. I sneak a look under my eyelashes. Maxon's face still reflects deep concern. He hasn't put two and two together yet.

"Continue your report, Doc."

Doc looks at me and winks, knowing I know. "Your Majesty?" I return his look with a discrete smile and a small nod.

"Maxon, " I begin. "Look at me."

He turns those beautiful brown eyes toward me, a crease furrowing in the middle of his brow. "Ames? Can someone just please..."

I touch his cheek as Doc quietly leaves the room, "I hope our baby has those eyes."

He freezes.

I don't realize I'm holding my breath until he grabs both my hands and I exhale. "What did you say?" His eyes are wide.

"Maxon, we are going to have a baby," I grin, more excited every time I say it.

I press the call button as he crumples forward and has his own appointment with the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**Thanks for sticking with me. You know in ****_Charlotte's Web_**** when Charlotte spins the word "HUMBLE" over Wilbur's pen? Ya'll are making me want to write to deserve your great reviews! I know I haven't mentioned it before, but it goes without saying that the characters belong to Kiera Cass. If I had the chance, I would totally buy her coffee if it wouldn't seem completely stalker-ish. :)**

**lourouine**** Thanks : )**

** .books**** I'm going to be swamped tomorrow, and since it is technically tomorrow and I haven't slept yet…**

**SelectionLoverForever**** Aww, too sweet. Thanks!**

**piepie1289**** Thanks for sticking with me.**

**Athenachild101**** So fun to write the fluff. **

**candy1928**** It seemed like a response within the realm of possibility—plus, I like the idea of them BOTH having broken noses.**

**_Six months later**_

I sit, putting my feet up on the ottoman and leaning back into the soft green fabric of the rocker. The dusky light filters through the curtains with the breeze. I sigh a little and close my eyes, absentmindedly rubbing my growing belly. "Well, kid, looks like it's just you and me again tonight." I smile as a gentle kick against my abdomen answers my voice. "Your daddy is a wonderful man. And everyone else knows it. So, they all grab a little bit here and a little bit there..." One tear follows another until brushing them away seems futile. I cover my mouth with my other hand, not wanting the guard outside the door-Woodwork-or the personal assistant in my suite-also Woodwork-to hear me sob.

My love for Maxon and the baby engulfs my heart, and spills out. Maxon's schedule has spiraled out of control as the cease fire with the Southern rebels threatens to disintegrate and our peace treaty with New Asia is negotiated. It's like he wants to make sure that we never have to go to a safe room again.

During the day, I am engrossed in my philanthropic work, but the exhaustion that plagued me at the beginning of the pregnancy is reappearing for the sixth month. I don't always have the energy for the evening policy meetings like I used to-and Doc is concerned with keeping the swelling down in my ankles and feet. I am determined to have an uneventful pregnancy, as nothing sounds worse than the paparazzi surrounding the Angeles hospital for a high risk birth. I plan to use a special suite downstairs, though we are preparing for any eventuality. Of course. Everything except for the little peanut growing inside me, and the quiet afternoon together six months ago, is highly orchestrated.

The tears began to slow as I continue to rock and allow my mind to wander to that lazy Sunday. I'm still not sure how we managed an hour without interruption, as that kind of time seems like a luxury now. In my half-dreamlike state, I hear the door crack open.

"America?"

His voice breaks my reverie and I wipe my face with the back of my hands, making room for him to sit on the ottoman. He takes my feet into his lap and begins to massage my ankles. I get a good look at his profile bent over my manicured toes, crisp blue button down unbuttoned a little and showing his cotton undershirt. Red tie loose and sleeves rolled back. Blonde hair falling into his soft brown eyes, ringed with purple. "I thought I'd find you in here, love."

Trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice, I reply softly. "I thought you had another policy meeting tonight." I attempt a smile and look away biting my lip. Last night my words had been more cutting, and though I had said nearly the same thing, he stalked out of the door letting it slam behind him. Wordless.

He looks at me, weighing his words carefully. "It'll keep until morning. It'll be an early morning, but when my beautiful wife needs me-" He helps me stand and wraps his arms around my middle, nuzzling his head into my shoulder and whispering his next words into my neck. "I thought you might be tugging your ear tonight."

Those words melt any residual bitterness I'm feeling. "Oh, Maxon, I'm-"

He doesn't let me finish before he covers his lips with mine in a sweet lingering kiss that intensifies and leaves me breathless, wanting more. When we finally part, he folds me into his arms and presses kisses into the crown of my hair, "I know, Ames. Me, too."

"Does it get any easier, Maxon? Will I ever get used to feeling this alone surrounded by people?" Even with Mom, May, and Gerard in and out of the castle, and Marlee's constant companionship, I feel Queen Amberley's absence daily. The rebels forever robbed me of the opportunity to learn my work with a caring mentor, even with Nicoletta's support and alliances, nothing is like family.

"America, it's already easier for me with you here. I know it's not the life we imagined, being thrown straight into all of this without Mother's direct guidance. But, my dear, we'll never be alone again." He touches my stomach for emphasis, and gets a kick for his trouble. His eyes widen with wonder, "He knows my voice. That's right, give Daddy another high five."

The baby obliges and I laugh, "Hey, it could be a she. And, your 'high fives' are going to send me to the restroom. Cut it out."

The glint in Maxon's eye is unmistakable as he chases me from the nursery through the Queen's suite and into our bedroom. I shriek as he catches me and dumps me gently, yet unceremoniously, onto the bed. "Hey! Lady with a baby here!" I tease.

He raises an eyebrow, "I know," he grins as he hangs his head and body over mine. "Rumor is, I'm the father." And with that, he covers my mouth with his, rekindling the fire that always rests just below the surface.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow, I really am overwhelmed by the support for this work so far. I appreciate it so much! I'm posting two tonight because this chapter is so short. Kiera Cass, the offer for coffee is a standing one. If you drink coffee, I guess I would buy you tea if you prefer? Characters are hers. :)**

**And, on to the reviews:**

**IChangedForYou, INFAMOUSkidBlue, Karategirl537,PokemonLuver151, & guest: Thank you all. I'm so glad you're enjoying it. **

**zeldafanatic0555-I hope it's living up to your expectations. **

**BeatriceMelarkHolmesEaton-This chapter is short, but the next one is longer. The story will continue. :)**

**Lady Unimportant-I just couldn't let a 17-year-old just-married America get that kind of surprise. Totally respect those who do, but it would be a totally different take on the "After." Glad you like the choice!**

**candy1928-Thanks for the encouragement. :) America's learning that loneliness is part of the gig. :-/ Hard lesson.**

**northernstar-I think that's why I'm writing. I think I'd be obsessing if I wasn't being creative.**

**Now, on with the story!**

* * *

Maxon smoothes the hair back from my forehead, touching my cheek gently. "You were amazing, America. I can't even put words to it. I love you doesn't seem strong enough."

I look up from the sleeping bundle on my chest and take Maxon's hand, kissing his palm. "I love you, too. So much." I close my eyes, resting my other hand behind the baby's head.

With my eyes still closed, I whisper meekly, "Maxon."

"Yes, America."

"I'm sorry I implied that your parents never married. And for grabbing you by your belt buckle when you tried to pace by the bed. And for giving you that bruise on your hand. And for swearing that you'll never touch me again. And for threatening to dash your favorite camera against the floor."

He laughs softly, "All in a day's work, love. If it helped you, then all is forgiven." He pulls his chair closer to me, and rests his head near mine. Several minutes later, I add, "I have an idea. How about you have the next one? Because it makes me really tired, and maybe even a little crabby."

He continues to chuckle, "One at a time, my dear. Let's see if we survive this one, first." He takes his camera from the table and snaps a few more pictures. I let him, trying to ignore how horrible I must look. The birth photos are just another rite of passage for us. I breathe slowly, gazing in awe at the new little life in my arms. I never knew how my mother feels about me-how Queen Amberly felt about Maxon-until that very minute. Words feel inadequate, so we say nothing.

We are together quietly for a few seconds more before Marlee pops her head into the room. "Your family, America. I don't think I can keep them out much longer." After one last long look, Maxon and I nod and my family floods the room. I wonder if he regrets buying them a house so close to the palace. Maxon holds up our son, "Calix Shalom Schreave, meet your family."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: As promised, another chapter on the same night. Thanks again for reading! :)**

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Mama!" Calix squeals, scrambling onto the bed all elbows and knees. I raise my head and open one eye, groaning. I feel Maxon pick him up, saying, "Why don't we get dressed and then make some hot chocolate for all of us. By the time we do that, Mama will be up and ready to open presents." Thank god for that man. We had excused all but a skeleton staff so that they could spend Christmas Day with their families. It would have been selfish to keep our staff members at work when we could do for ourselves. "Kiss for Mama!" they shout and they both cover my cheeks before racing out of the room. I push myself out of bed and pull on a robe, soon realizing that it just wasn't going to fit across the middle. I smile at the reason, and wonder if Calix would have a brother or sister in the spring. Our trip to Italy last summer was certainly a productive one. I pad into the bathroom and wash up, then slip into a simple shift with room for my girth and add soft slippers for my feet. One of the changes we'd made is to have the holiday ball over New Year's, and I was excited that the biggest expectation for today would be dinner with family and close friends.

I make it to the common room as Maxon and Calix return, balancing cups of cocoa and strawberry tarts on a tray. We share the food over the coffee table, and I can't help feeling cozy and festive. "Mama?"

"Yes, Cal?"

"Daddy said the baby would like the strawberry tarts. Does the baby like the strawberry tarts?"

I gather him up to my hip and drop a kiss on his forehead, "Yes, honey, and so does Mama. Thank you."

We open a few simple gifts and then Maxon and I retreat to the couch. I watch Calix play on the floor near the tree skirt, and pat the warm arm around my shoulders, draw his hand to my lips. "Love you," Maxon smiles, and presses a kiss into my temple. "How's our other one doing?"

"Fine," I whisper back, basking in the quiet attention and the peaceful room, "Love you, too." When the rest of my family arrives, organized chaos will break out across this room. And I am happy they will probably sleep in. Calix turns his honey brown eyes to us eagerly, "Daddy, help me build a palace with my new blocks? Mama, your job is to supervise."

Maxon laughs, "Well, son, you have the order of things right."

"As you wish, Prince Calix," I tease and squeeze Maxon's hand. I pull my legs up beside me, and recline into the corner of the couch, watching my husband and his sweet four-year-old sidekick make order out of the pile of colored blocks on the floor.

Our loved ones came and went. Later that night, we stand in the doorway of the nursery, watching the rhythmic breathing of our son. Maxon gently closes the door and leads me back to the couch. "I have something for you, America." I raise an eyebrow. He kneels in front of me on the floor as he fishes a box out of his pocket.

Lightly, I say "Maxon, we're already married." As he opens the box, I find a thin gold piece, matching the style of my ring, and bearing Calix's birthstone and a small teardrop diamond on the other. "It's beautiful—what is it?"

"The jeweler said it is called a wrap. They were very popular before our kingdom was established. Trust me?" I nod. He removes my ring, places the thinner band around it, and then returns both to my ring finger. The thinner band did wrap around our stones, adding Calix to our ring.

Pointing, "I know this one is for Calix. But, what does the diamond represent?"

He leans forward and kisses my forehead, "The one after."

Tears spring to my eyes, and we both remember the excitement of finding out that we were adding to our family and the panic as Doc told us that there was nothing we could do. The following spring was bleak, especially cold and rainy, and matched the collective mood of the palace. Our trip to Italy the following summer was a balm, even though we worked to improve alliances and trade agreements, Calix and May traveled with us. Nicoletta pulled us into her circle for eight weeks. We left refreshed, and carrying a special souvenir. "I love it." We sit that way for a while, Maxon cradling my hips and resting his head on my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair, again and again.

"Are you ready for your surprise?"

He starts up, genuinely astonished. "For me? My intel shared nothing about any shopping excursions."

"Because there wasn't one," I say, reaching into the drawer of the table by the sofa. "Though you may need better agents." He looks at me quizzically, as I hand him a book. Puzzlement turns to joy as he opens the first page and sees pictures of a very small Maxon, cradled in his mother's arms. His father's face softened with a familiar smile. As he moves through the book, Maxon grows from an infant to a toddler. Toddler to preschooler. Preschooler to student. Student to young man. And then, pictures he took of me during the Selection. Our engagement and wedding photos. Candids of our honeymoon in Honduragua. Me, in profile, and very pregnant with the little boy in the next room. "How, love?"

"There are many in this palace loyal to their Queen, Maxon," I wink. "I have agents of my own." I am pleased that he likes it so well, and we journey through the pictures two more times before switching the lamp off and walking hand in hand to bed.

As I settle myself against his shoulder, he wraps an arm around my burgeoning waist and asks "Did you have a good Christmas, America?"

"Are we here together?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes, Maxon. That's really all I need."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks for continuing to read. Like I said, it helps me keep writing! Kiera Cass, you have created some awesome characters...**

**candy1928: I really couldn't picture young Calix any other way. :)**

**SelectionLoverForever: So nice to see your review when I have to be up so early this morning! **

**piepie1289: I am so flattered by that statement. I'm glad!**

**prnamber3909: :)**

**Athenachild101: Between Calix and this current pregnancy, America and Maxon experienced a miscarriage. A few months later, they went to Italy for diplomatic reasons, but managed to find time for each other. America came back from Italy pregnant. :)**

**Issi Herondale: Thanks for the encouragement. Calix is Maxon's middle name, and it means "chalice" in Latin. So, Calix Shalom literally translates to Chalice of Peace. :)**

**zyvl787: Glad you like it!**

**zeldafanatic0555: I hope it will live up to your expectations!**

** : Me, too. How could they not name him after daddy and grandpa? :)**

_**So, we're skipping forward about 2.5 years...Let me know what you think!**_

* * *

"If that's what you want." He turns.

"You know it's not what I want," I hiss, tossing the closest thing to me. A good thing Abrielle is fast asleep, and can't witness her sheep fly through the air and peg her father in the back. "Don't you dare walk away from me right now."

"What do you want from me, America? What do you want me to say right now?"

I mimic his flat tone, "Well, not 'if that's what you want.' That's for damn sure!" He continues his path to the door of our common room. No. Not again. He's not escaping this discussion for the solace of his study. One way or another, this ends tonight. I surprise myself with the strength and ugliness and truth behind my own words, "Maxon Schreave, if you leave this room right now, it'll be a cold day in Hell before I speak to you again." I twist our ring on my finger, feeling the stones representing us, and rubbing my thumb across the new additions: stones for Calix and Abrielle. Two tiny teardrop diamonds for the ones gone before they could be born.

He turns, eyes flashing, crossing the room in three strides and grabbing my shoulders. "Do you want to see me mad, America? Is that it? Do you want to see me lose it? Do you want to see me on my knees in front of you?"

I gasp, surprised at his display of anger, but manage to spit, "Anything would be better than NO emotion, Maxon. Isn't there a little love left for me at all? I want to see you FIGHT for me. For Calix and Abrielle. In case you've forgotten, I once fought 34 other women for you!" I wrench myself from his grasp and collapse into the arm of the sofa, facing away from him. I hate that the tears are running down my face faster than I can wipe them away. We play our parts so well, how had we lost ourselves so completely along the way? My heart aches and I put a hand to my chest, because the pain is so strong it is physical.

"Do you hate me, Ames?" I just stare at that question. In my head I scream, I hate how this feels. I hate the relief we share when we have a good excuse not to take our meals at the same time or when the children fill the silence with laughter, disguising our indifference to each other. I hate how my heart breaks every day this pseudo-politeness continues. I hate how we are betraying our promises to each other. But I keep silent, and he continues, "Do you really want to go spend the summer with Nicoletta? Would you...would you rather be with someone else?"

He sits down beside me on the sofa, careful not to touch me. Not knowing how much I crave his hands on my body. Wishing we could leave the little safe rooms of our own creation. Where's the trigger to unlock them?

I turn to him, "Maxon, can you remember the last time you kissed me good night?"

"America, I want to know if you'd rather be with someone else."

"No, Maxon, you're wondering if there is any truth to the rumor that the education advisor is having an affair with your wife."

The look on his face brought me back 12 years, to the night he saw me with Aspen. And it inflames my rage. My eyes turn flint-like as I say everything I'd held back. "And my answer to you is that if you had spent any time with me in the last six months, you wouldn't be asking me that question. I have been fighting off his advances since November. And he is getting bolder the farther from me you remove yourself. Did you know that Marlee runs constant interference to make sure he's never allowed access to me alone and Carter actively works to keep him off this floor? Even Nicoletta dominated my time at our holiday party so I could feign ignorance at his wholly inappropriate and persistent attention. Not that Mary's creations catch _your_ attention anymore. And you! You have implied consent by doing nothing. The one person who is supposed to protect me against all others, abandons me!"

I stop to catch my breath. The heat drains out of my voice as I continue, "And I'm confused. And I'm tired, Maxon. I'm tired of not letting someone love me when the one I want pushes me aside. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of waking up with your side of the bed cold and untouched. I'm tired of not talking about anything more important than the damn weather. Nicoletta's offer is for me to recharge. Take a break. Bring our babies somewhere peaceful. Somewhere I can pretend we're not falling apart. Dispel any nasty gossip. Over New Year's she sensed how-distant we are. Do you think I'm the only one who notices you sleep in your office? The whole palace _knows_, Maxon, they just care for us enough not to rub it in our faces."

He stiffens even more when I persist, enunciating each word, "So, when is the last time you kissed me good night?" My eyes plead with his. I lean toward him, stopping short of pressing my lips to his. Not able to bear one more instance of rejection. Putting myself on the line and willing him to close the distance.

"Ames," he breathes, "I have been such a-" he stops and presses his lips to mine, tentativeness giving way to insistence. Insistence to undeniable hunger. Our need for each other palpable.

I sigh audibly as he moans, gathers me into his lap and kisses my face, pulls my robe aside to reach my neck. I lace my fingers in his hair and press myself even closer to him, trembling, and whisper against his lips, "I've missed you, Maxon. I'm so lonely for us."

That was all it took. In one sudden motion he stands, picking me up against his chest, and purposefully strides through our bedroom door.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks for continuing to read. Loving the candid reviews. I really appreciate them. I want to give another shout-out to KC, but afraid it may be a little much. And, who am I kidding? If I really got to hang out with her, I'd probably trip on my own feet and spill coffee all over her phone. So, a Starbucks gift card and a passing wave would be much safer.**

**nikitabella: Glad you enjoyed it. You're right that life with America and Maxon would not be all fluff-because real love sucks sometimes! Just hoping the "fish or cut bait" discussion didn't seem too forced. Thanks for your thoughts! :)**

**piepie1289: Thanks! And thanks for staying with me.**

** .books: I appreciate the detailed review, and that you shared your real thoughts. What other vignettes would you want to see? I like the time skipping because of the ability to focus on "touchstone" events. Hmmm. Again appreciate your thoughts-looking forward to hearing what you have to say.**

**candy1928: I know, right? And, more is explained in the next story chapter.**

**Athenachild101: Glad you enjoyed it.**

**prnamber3909: It felt great to right-so glad it was fun to read.**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: Thanks-I'm having fun with it.**

**pumpkin21: Wouldn't it be nice? :)**

_****We're skipping 18 months forward.****_

* * *

"Italy's been good to us," Maxon grinned, looking at me from his chair at the breakfast table. I cradle Barrett against my shoulder, kissing the small head crowned with bright orange fluff, and place him gently in the bassinet. Changed, fed, and already back to sleep. Sometimes I would kill to be an infant. I stand and survey the room. His twin, Griffin, sighs in his sleep, belly full, and snuggles into the crook of Maxon's arm. The dim light from dawn is enough to illuminate his white blonde hair. "First, Abrielle, now these two..." He sips his coffee, looking satisfied.

"Mmhmm," I intone. "I told Nicoletta there must be something in that water." I maneuver back to my place at the table. He puts his cup down as I walk past, and grabs my hand to kiss it, looking up over my palm to say, "Have I told you lately how good you look carrying a baby?"

Laughing I answer, "Once or twice." Maxon's exuberance is infectious. "But don't get any ideas. I think four children should be enough for you for now, Your Majesty. That is plenty for a rousing game of just about anything."

I sit, and begin my breakfast with my customary cup of tea. Stone cold. "One of these days, I will have my tea while it is lukewarm, maybe even hot." I smile to let him know I am teasing, and dig in. Even after all these years, I greet breakfast with special enthusiasm.

These years. A shadow passes my eyes. A year and a half ago, I couldn't remember how to recover this easy-going back and forth. We had grown so far from each other.

"Ames?"

We started these early morning breakfasts after that horrible winter. Trying to weave ourselves together again. At this table is where we poured out all the misunderstandings of six months that led to our unraveling. Where we took time to heal and forgive. Where we decided loving each other was worth risking. Where I got my best friend back. It's even where we decided to take Nicoletta up on her offer to escape, though a short week was all the time we could spare. When either of us must be away, this is the part of the day that is the most painful to miss. For the first time in my life, I am a morning person.

"America, what are you thinking about?" He looks at me and knows where my mind wanders. When I don't answer he whispers, "I think about it, too."

I thought back to the night where I had given him a veiled ultimatum, despairing that he wouldn't want to touch me again. Then, I flush, thinking of the kiss and everything after.

He raises an eyebrow, and I know he knows what I was just thinking about the end of that evening. "Maxon, I still can't believe he cornered you in your study and described my back in detail to you." A shiver runs down my spine, thinking about how closely he must have been examining me during state functions. "I'm not sure Marlee has forgiven you yet for all the extra work it created for her."

"And I know Carter thinks I was a complete ass. I don't think I told you that he overheard most of our argument that night."

"How could he not? And, we agreed we both were wrong-for letting it go so long." My pregnancy and miscarriage after Abrielle hadn't even been common knowledge, but with that loss came the fear of never having a large family. We closed ourselves off to each other so completely, put on a brave face and threw ourselves into our work and our children. We left nothing for each other. I take another bite of toast, and push away those thoughts. "Of course he was on my side," I tease, "I inspire loyalty in all my guards."

"That you do, love." He gets up and places Griffin beside his brother. My eyes mist watching his gentle patience.

"What are your plans for today, Ames?" He pulls on his socks and then buttons up a crisp white shirt.

"A nap?" I joke, readjusting my robe as I stand to help with his tie. "Actually, Marlee and I need to work through a new school visit strategy. With the babies, it may be a little more complicated this year. Kriss offered to help, so if we can catch her on the phone, we will. And you?"

The sun breaks on the horizon, and I know our time together for the morning is close to being through. "We should be able to do family dinner tonight, if we eat early, but trade negotiations after are unavoidable."

I fix the knot on his royal blue tie, and grab his suit jacket from the back of the chair. "Well, the sooner you go, the sooner you'll be done." He shrugs into his jacket, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me gently. There is comfort in coming through difficulty, and landing upright on the other side.

I close the door quietly behind him, leaning against it briefly before I head to my closet to begin preparations for the day. "I love you, too, Maxon Schreave. I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I don't know if it makes it sound less true every time I say it, but I appreciate you for reading. This fanfic is my first, and I am having so much fun with this creative release. It's the end of the semester, so it serves as perfect procrastination!  
**

**Athenachild101-They both profess to wanting a big family, and I'd say after 13.5 years, they've got one. :) Hmm, not a bad idea to bring Kriss into a vignette. I'll have to think about this.**

**PokemonLuver151-Thanks for the feedback. I'll try!**

**candy1928-I know. They wanted a big family. By my standards, they have one now. We'll see if Maxon gets his wish!**

**GavrilGirl: What a complement! Thanks so much. There's more to the story, that's for sure.**

* * *

_**A little over a year later**_

I sit straight up in bed, wondering what had pulled me from my dream. I turn to Maxon, but his side is empty. The pillow untouched. _What is that noise?_

Fear courses through my body as realization sets in. It's been almost fifteen years since the rebel alarms have sounded at night. Maxon and Aspen, now commander of our special forces, insist on drills. But they are always during the day, and even though they are always unannounced, I am always forewarned. The children, not understanding the seriousness, see them as a great opportunity to play in areas of the palace that are usually off limits to them. A point of consternation for the palace guard, and even Maxon. But I understand. We have worked tirelessly to keep them blissfully unaware of the possible dangers outside the palace. Illea is infinitely safer than when Maxon toddled these hallways, but living in the palace will always carry its own special risk. I'm already moving for Barrett and Griffin as Carter opens the door to the hallway. I wave him toward the nursery, "May. Calix. Abrielle." He nods and I turn to the closet, running my hand along the wall. _Where is that damn button?_

The babies struggle a little and whine in my grasp as I awkwardly hold them against my body. I croon to them, "It's okay, guys. Mama's here. I know that's a loud noise." _Aha! _As my hand brushes up against an unevenness in the paneling of the closet and the hidden staircase is revealed, Barrett is pulled from my grasp. I whirl around to see May, comforting her nephew against her body and relax, but only slightly. Calix has Abrielle by the hand, face composed but eyes wide. Maxon had undertaken the explanation of our tenuous position when Calix turned eight. He knows the extraordinary work involved in striking the balance that keeps these drills from being real. Abrielle has her hands over her ears. "Down the stairs. Follow Aunt May." My statement isn't even complete and May is through the door, guiding Calix and Abrielle. I follow them. "Quickly, loves," I urge, trying to keep my voice soft. They are already frightened enough. I look over my shoulder and lock eyes with Carter. "It's clear, Your Majesty." I nod quickly. He shuts the door and I'm grateful for the boots that are willing to run in the opposite direction. _Stay safe, Officer Woodwork. Your family needs you as much as mine does._

During the Selection, Celeste, Elise, Kriss, and I never imagined that the rebel alarms would cease. I even joked that I would wear track shoes instead of heels if I became Queen, our jaunts to the safe rooms tense and frequent as we dodged ever-present danger. But, Maxon and I work so hard to make sure that drills were all we ever need. The caste system numbers are basically meaningless now—except as prejudicial slurs—and the country is more prosperous than ever before. New Asia and Illea have an uneasy peace, but both benefit from trade agreements that show how much we actually need the other. The government coffers of both full to overflowing. The European kingdoms support our changes, and we now have allies around the world as we strive to educate our entire populace, and ameliorate issues surrounding hunger and poverty. The Northern rebels were satisfied, and the Southern ones all but eradicated in the same attack that took Amberly from us. Our more recent work, to establish a parliament, would give even more power to the citizenry.

_So, what is the new threat? _

Our bedraggled group enters the safe room. I go to May, placing a hand on her shoulder, where she and Calix are helping Abrielle stretch out on a cot. Abrielle's eyes already flutter. She'll be asleep in the next thirty seconds. She balances Barrett on her hip, and I take the opportunity to take a good look at my baby sister. She's not such a baby any more. At twenty-eight, she is at once beautiful and strong. She is still easy to laugh, which helps when my own temper flares. Even though she teaches art at the palace school, she insists on helping us with the children, mostly at night, and when we have to tour. When she became engaged last year—Kriss had much to do with introducing her to the professor of history that will become her husband—I protested her nearly constant presence at the palace. But she contended that family helps family, knowing how much I did not want to leave our children and how much work Maxon and I have to do. I relented, and several rooms on the other side of the nursery have been converted into her apartment.

Calix reaches for Griffin as he sees Commander Leger enter the safe room. "Here, Mama. I'll take him." I look at my son and can't believe how much he has grown in such a short time. I smile genuinely at him, making sure to keep my fear hidden. I turn to him and hand him his little brother. "Thank you, Cal." Adding, quietly, "I am so proud of how you are acting tonight."

Suddenly, I am aware that I forgot my robe. I am standing barefoot, barely dressed in a thin, blue cotton nightgown, hair braided down my back, surrounded by my staff. I compose myself, and survey the room. Everyone seems to be calm, helping each other get settled until they are released. May brings me a blanket to wrap around my shoulders, as if she read my mind. "Thanks, Sis." She smiles sleepily and retreats to a cot, curling her body around Barrett, as Calix continues to comfort Griffin.

I meet Aspen in the middle of the room. He knows my question before I speak it. "Maxon's safe." I exhale. "He's right behind me." It's taken us a long time to get to the point where we can look at each other and not remember past hurts. Lucy's influence, and his two little girls, have softened Aspen around the edges, but his aptitude for this sort of work only grows. He knows the safety of my family is in his hands, and he performs his duties all over the world.

"How long did it take to clear the floors?"

"Longer than I would like, Your Majesty. And, the King refused to enter the safe room before helping clear."

Hmm. The King and I would be having a discussion about that.

Aspen seems amused at the look on my face. He lowers his voice, "I don't know why you're surprised, Mer. He loves his people almost as much as he loves you."

"Yes," I whisper back, "But his people need him alive." Precisely at that moment, Maxon enters the room. Aspen moves to stand at attention. Even Calix sits up straighter, wanting to impress his father.

"At ease," Maxon says as he nods to both Aspen and Cal. He smiles at me, and I remain where I am as he checks in on each of his staff, then makes his way to our family corner. He claps Cal on the back, and touches the hand of a now sleeping Griffin. After settling Cal, he peeks at May and Barrett, and grins at Abrielle stretching like a starfish. Only then does he come to the middle of the room to meet with me and Aspen.

I lean into him, receiving the kiss on my forehead with composure. The children and staff see my calm demeanor, but both men beside me know that I am quaking. "What happened?" I ask quietly.

Maxon and Aspen exchange a glance. I see Maxon's watch in his hands, instead of around his wrist. Instantly, I know. "A drill?" I want to scream it, but I know I can't, and narrow my eyes instead. "Explain."

"The day drills are not taken seriously. It was taking longer and longer to clear the floors, and some staff resisted leaving at all. We needed to get in a realistic drill and see where we could improve." I nod, agreeing with the logic. But, something still pushed at the back of my brain. That wasn't the whole truth. "Why all the urgency? We haven't had a night drill since Calix was born. Why now?"

They stood silent before me. I knew I couldn't command Aspen to speak if Maxon had insisted on his silence, so I focus my gaze on my husband. He looked right back, prepared for a contest. "This conversation isn't over. You two stay here. I am going to tell the staff they can return to their rooms. No use in them losing any more sleep, or causing unnecessary worry." I dismiss each group, and when I come to Mary I ask her gently to help May return my family to their rooms. She curtsies, and helps to rouse May and Cal, who each gingerly move their sleeping charges. Mary picks up drowsy Abrielle, and my little family exits the safe room.

As the room clears, I return to Aspen and Maxon, and demand, "What is the new threat?"

Aspen looks at Maxon, pointedly, "You might as well tell her. You know better than anyone how stubborn she is."

I cross my arms across my chest, and raise my eyebrow. Maxon sighs and puts his arm around my shoulders. "Understand, America, it's a distant rumbling now, but we fear it's getting stronger. We knew it wouldn't be easy to eliminate the castes and establish a more parliamentary form of government. But, we've made such progress in fifteen years. And the country is prospering, and has become an example of what releasing a stranglehold on the neck of the people can do."

"But some people are not happy."

"Right, love, and though everyone is better off as a whole, some lost a great deal when we made the initial changes."

My eyes widen in surprise as I blurt out, "The twos loyal to your father. But, haven't we been watching them for years? Why now?"

"America, most of my job has been to identify and contain threats. We have several theories as to the catalyst, but really that doesn't matter." Aspen turns to me, expression serious, "What we know for sure, Mer, is that it is not as safe as it was, but it is even more important for you to be among the people."

Maxon adds, "We are almost positive it is because we are trying to establish the parliament. As we do, laws are being amended. The twos have borne change they never expected, and some that they never wanted. The education system you are working so hard on is beginning to bear fruit, and children from all castes are benefiting. But those whose parents were born fours and below show a hunger for education that the twos have already taken for granted… There are so many components impacting this movement, America. We're challenging the very fabric of what they always believed about themselves."

I think of Celeste, and how she truly believed that she deserved Maxon simply because of her station in life. How hard it was for her to accept that I had an equal right to him, if that's what he chose. How her catharsis was cut short by a well-placed bullet. I center my focus on Aspen, "I want my maids, May, Calix, Abrielle, Marlee… Anyone who works with the children daily trained in self-defense, Officer Leger. They can train alone or in a group, but they will be trained. Starting tomorrow. Also, I will need training." I refuse to be a victim or a tool to terrorize my family.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"The best, Officer Leger. Find the best and pay them whatever they ask. And ensure their discretion. I want them thoroughly vetted before allowing them through the doors of my home. And security." I look to Maxon, then back to Aspen, "Unobtrusively get more security in this palace. We have a skeleton crew now, and we need to be back up to pre-treaty standards."

Aspen nods, "Already started, Queen America—"

I cut him off and continue, "We don't want to give away our intelligence. So, I don't care if all the maids are suddenly—and coincidentally—martial arts specialists and the stable hands can hit a bullseye at 300 yards. Protect my family, Office Leger, and tell as few people as possible."

Maxon and Aspen stand side-by-side, looking slightly bemused.

I nod. And, then I turn and head out of the safe room, alone.

I walk more and more quickly, and hit the doors to the garden on the first floor almost at a full run. I don't acknowledge the greeting of the guards as I tear outside. When I reach _the_ bench, _our _bench, I collapse onto it. Thankful for the blanket around my shoulders. My heart races. My legs both energized and spent by the sudden exertion. And, then my whole body is completely numb. Maxon approaches me, a look of concern on his face. He sits down, and pulls me into his arms. He feels miles away.

"If I hadn't figured it out, when were you going to tell me?"

"Soon, love. We are expecting another round of intel this week, and we planned to tell you after that and include you in the strategy meetings. We're getting closer to the source of the unrest."

He stops talking as I finally break down. Instead, he rocks me back and forth, whispering repeatedly, "I know, America. I know."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: As always, thanks for reading, whether you fav, follow, review, or not. Another shout-out to KC for her wonderful characters! **

**Athenachild101: Got it. Feeling a little silly, now. :) I think in the next few chapters, I'll try to provide more clarity without a list. If that doesn't do it for you-let me know, and I'd be happy to!**

**prnamber3909, piepie1289, TheSelectionFangirl, & Maxon's Rose: Thank you all. Maybe the story is coming together? :)**

**And, on with the story...**

* * *

I struggle to sleep, but finally doze. When I open my eyes, I see Maxon sitting at the breakfast table-still dressed in yesterday's clothes. His elbows are on the table, hands support his head. It's still too early for breakfast, and he doesn't even have a mug of coffee yet. He suddenly looks broken framed by the balcony doors.

He doesn't speak, even as I go quietly to him, and rest a hand on his shoulder. "Maxon?" But he does place a hand over mine.

He finally lifts his head. "I haven't done such a good job of protecting you, have I, America?" His eyes focus somewhere out the window. "All we've accomplished, and the people who came to my birthday parties, joined us for holidays, mourned my parents' passing, and celebrated our wedding are planning..." He trails off. "I need to know what they're planning."

The helplessness in his expression and voice scares me more than his statements. Last night, after I emptied my tears, he had silently led me back through the palace to our room, tucked me gently into bed and then held me as I fell into a fitful sleep. I didn't even pay attention to how anguished and deceived he must feel. Our illusion of safety had crashed to the ground last night, and maybe it is our fault for trying to create one. There is really no such thing as complete security.

"How long have you been dealing with this alone, Maxon?" I ask quietly, making sure my tone is caring instead of accusatory. My stern reaction from last night was more from needing to feel some sort of control while so much slipped from my grasp.

He glances at me, and then to the cribs on my side of our bed. Griffin and Barrett continue to slumber, unaware that in one night their world has irrevocably changed. "For about six months, love. Aspen's team intercepted some unusual chatter, and we've been following up. We had to be sure. I didn't want to worry you for nothing, and I needed you to continue as if nothing was out of the ordinary."

"I'm sorry I reacted so strongly last night. I just, I just had to feel like I was doing something. I know that you and Aspen were already thinking about increasing security. In fact," I look at him, not able to control my surprise, "the construction for May. It took so long. They're still in and out all day." He nods, as I suddenly understand the delays and material mis-orders and the myriad of mistakes that have plagued the project. "One of Aspen's security teams." I think of the other changes that have taken place over the last few months. "The additional kitchen help?"

"Yes, America. I'm sorry I kept it from you, but I think I'd do it again. The construction crew and the new kitchen help are highly trained and expressly charged with protecting you and the children. The only thing we hadn't thought of was training you and the children and the existing help in self-defense. That really is a flash of brilliance. We are so concerned with protecting you, sometimes I forget you are more than capable of protecting yourself." He looks up at me, flashing a weak smile. "Aspen and I met after you fell asleep. He has some ideas about the training, and is already vetting a team. I never suspected I'd think we're lucky to have one of your exes hanging around."

"I'm surrounded by yours," I smile back. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Remember, Aspen isn't an ex any more, he's part of the family." I muse_, Kota can't handle being my big brother, and as weird as it is, Aspen stepped right in_. "I don't know what I'd do without Marlee, and even Kriss and Elise. Your mother was right, Maxon. They are my support team." I rub his neck with my other hand. The knots of tension don't surprise me. "Have you slept at all tonight?"

He shakes his head, "And I probably won't, love. I can't." He doesn't need to explain. I know that until this new threat is contained, my rest will not be as easy, either.

"It's a good thing the little boys have started to sleep through the night. I was already thinking of moving them to the nursery. But that means we'll need additional help there. I can't in good conscience do that to May. Four on one and she doesn't have any of her own, yet."

I get a wry smile from him. "Those odds with our children are definitely not in her favor," he agrees. "A good excuse to hire more help. But, I'll miss having them in here with us." His eyes turn to their cribs and then back to me, "How did my mother handle this constant anxiousness, Ames? I don't know how to bear it."

"I don't know, but we'll learn. Though, I think I understand your father a little more, and _that_ is a little disconcerting."

We both stop talking. The silent seconds turn to minutes, and eventually Maxon stands and pulls me to him. The familiarity of the embrace calms us both, but the peace is tenuous. "Are you sorry you married into this?" he asks sadly.

I respond quietly, but firmly, knowing he's not trying to hurt me and meaning every word. "Don't ever say that again, Maxon. I have never regretted one moment of our life together, and I'm not going to start now." I wrap my arms even tighter around his waist. Hard to believe I've spent nearly half my life loving this man. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I'm surprised my teenage-self isn't looking back.

A quiet knock at the door signals our breakfast tray has arrived. Griffin, ever the more wakeful one, stirs a little. Maxon goes to rub his back, to see if he can coax him into a deeper sleep. I open the door to Mary, placing a finger unnecessarily to my lips. She quickly and quietly unloads the tray, waving away my thank you and closing the door behind her in less than three minutes.

My stomach rumbles loud enough for Maxon to hear it across the room, and his smile is genuine as he stifles a laugh. I have always had a special relationship with breakfast, and it doesn't look like it will be ending anytime soon. "Why don't you take a quick shower, and I'll fix your plate. By the time you get out, your coffee will be cool enough to drink."

He looks a little unwilling to leave, but agrees to the suggestion. I fill our plates with eggs, blueberry muffins, and bacon. Pour juice from the decanter. When I hear the water turn off, I fill his coffee cup and sit to enjoy my tea. He re-enters the room in just his robe, water glistening on his hair. Despite the pressures of running a fledgling country, there isn't any gray in the blonde. A hint of a furrow is always between his brow, and light laugh lines appear around his eyes, but rule generally agrees with him. His profile is still slim and muscular, though he has filled out a bit since our wedding. And, honestly, I have, too. Four children and fifteen years have given me curves and softness in areas where I was all angles before.

He sees me watching him, and his smile reaches his eyes this time. As he drops a kiss on the top of my head and seats himself, I ask, "Why such a big smile?"

"I just caught the most beautiful woman in the world looking at me. That should be enough to make any man smile."

"Enough. Eat your breakfast," I reprimand, but he knows I'm laughing, too. It's the only thing keeping me from crying right now.

"Seriously, Ames, I just decided that I wasn't going to let them drain the happiness from my moments with my family. My father turned inward as the rebels got bolder and more active. He tried to beat me into courageousness as the attacks became more frequent, and pushed Mother far away, though he deeply loved her. I want Calix, Abrielle, Barrett, and Griffin to know that the situation is grave, but that their father believes we can move through and past this latest obstacle. I want _you_ to know that I'm going to pull you all closer to my heart. Not push you away from it."

My eyes shine with tears that I won't let fall, as I recognize the power in his words. It's time to put aside the mourning for the life we had just two short days ago. It's time for me, America Schreave, Queen of Illea, to take my place beside my husband and ensure our work is not in vain.

Together, we will not fail.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**

**I've had a couple requests to slow down the story. (Guest, and .books). I think we're at the meat now, and I can. We'll stay at this spot for awhile, but I can't promise no more skips. :)**

**The Selection Fangirl and MyWorld MyWords, thank you so much. That little bit of positive feedback motivated me to write this chapter. Hopefully, you continue to enjoy it. **

**_And, speaking of, to those of you that repeatedly review-totally makes my day. XOXO to you! _**

**Athenachild101: Okay, here you go! I know the skips could make figuring the ages hard to follow. So, a description of the growing Schreave brood...**

**Calix is 8.5 at this point in the story. He looks like Maxon's mini-me, except for his eyes. His eyes look like America's father. He loves his brothers and sister. While he is the first to defend them, he is also first to tease. He is confident and intelligent, a necessary trait of the Crown Prince of Illea. He has a stubborn streak knows exactly how far he can push his mother and father. He has a knack for languages. Nickname? Cal**

**Abrielle is 4.5. She is the only girl, and has all the boys in the family wrapped around her finger. She definitely favors the Schreave side of the family, but has strawberry blonde hair with a curl to it and blue eyes. She's sweet and bubbly like May, but hides a razor sharp intelligence unless it proves a benefit. She is girly—and loves being fussed over. Her favorite color is green and wants to copy everything Aunt May does. She is already quite the artist. Nickname? Brie**

**Barrett is a little over 1. He is the most laid back of his siblings. He will sit and watch the activity without having to participate, agreeable to most things but preferring story time. (The ultimate time for observation and making connections.) Even at 1, he has a deep belly laugh. He is the only red head, and the family thinks he favors Gerad. His eyes are blue, like America's. He will sleep anywhere at any time, like a puppy falling asleep wherever he drops. He isn't truly speaking yet, because Calix and Abrielle can be counted on to give him whatever he needs. And he doesn't need much to be content. He thinks Calix hung the moon. He doesn't have a true nickname, but is alternately called Baer by the family.**

**Griffin is a little over 1. He looks like Maxon and Calix. If Maxon and America wanted to, they wouldn't have to take pictures of Griffin, because they could take old photos of Calix and say, "Like this one." Unlike Barrett, he doesn't sit and watch. He needs to be right in the middle of the activity, and will shriek for attention. He is intent when he tries to solve problems, and shows remarkable coordination for one so small. One work to describe him: determined. He follows Calix around whenever possible, and tries to imitate him. His first clear word? Cal. **

**Onward and upward... SJ**

* * *

My steely resolve from earlier in the morning is waning. The lack of sleep is starting to wear on me. In a twist of routine, Marlee and I will work in the Queen's study today by Maxon's request. I typically use a desk in the common room, and only take formal meetings in my study. That way, I can be close to the children. Marlee often brings her youngest boy Everett with her. He is just a year older than Abrielle, and they have a love-hate friendship for the ages. However, with the recent turn of events, I need to be more accessible to Maxon and Aspen. Though no one but family knew that Aspen and I had once dated, constant visits of the Commander of Special Forces would be seen as odd in our family rooms. I would either be accused of another affair, or the loyalists would discover that we know of their existence.

I pinch the bridge of my nose-a habit I began due to my pregnancy with Cal-and check the clock on the mantel. It is 9:30 AM and Cal has joined the other palace children for lessons in the school room. Knowing that everyone in May's apartment is trained to defend us-both with weapons and hand-to-hand-I had no qualms about sending Carter to walk him. Cal, however, was horrified. "Mama," he exclaimed. "What did I do wrong?" He thought he was being punished. I pulled both into the room, and shut the door. And, with my heart breaking, I explained to my little boy that we had several reports of civil unrest. Then, I solemnly reminded that he could not speak of this to anyone except for Mama and Daddy, and only in the family rooms. I tried not to hate all the former twos. Lumping everyone together into a caste goes against everything I believe in. But, now with my family at risk, it was hard to avoid. And then my eight year old realized last night's disturbance and his new escort are connected. As I try to hold myself together, Carter and Cal concocted a plan where it didn't look like Cal was in trouble or danger but under escort just the same. So like his father.

I hear giggling from the nursery. May and Brie and the little boys are playing a game of some sort. We'll have to find time to brief May today. I breathe heavily-in and out. The count slowly back from five. Marlee enters, Everett in tow, as I reach one.

"Good Morning, America!" Her bright smile greets me and it is too much.

I will stay composed. "Good Morning, Lady Marlee." I direct my attention to the little boy. So many children depending on us... "Morning, Everett. Brie and the boys are in the nursery. I think Aunt May is planning a picnic in the garden today. Why don't you run and join them?" He hugs Marlee around the knees and complies.

As soon as the door to the nursery closes, the mask I wear on my face begins to crack. I thought I had cried all the tears I was going to cry. "Oh, Marlee!" I collapse against her shoulder.

The confusion across her face is plain, but she leads me to the couch and pats my hand until the emotion that floods me ebbs. "America, what is wrong?"

"So much, Marlee. So much," I whisper as I take the offered tissues and dab at my face. I take another deep breath. "Give me a minute to straighten myself up, but we will be working in my study today. I will explain, I promise. But not here. Would you please grab the most urgent project files? I would call a runner, but I don't want to draw attention."

She nods, furrows between her brow. "Of course." As she sets to work, I return to my room to freshen up. A queen must always display a calm demeanor, regardless of the circumstances. Even if her world is falling apart.

Without the cameras following me around the palace, and Lucy's retirement, Mary was my only dedicated maid. She picked others to help her for state events and when important delegations visited. But many days, I readied myself, depending on her for flexibility and discretion, and preferring to have fewer invasions of privacy as my not-so-little family grows.

I look in the mirror as I reapply my make up. A woman's face looks back at me, bright blue eyes, softened by fine laugh lines. Hair in a neat knot, still as fiery as ever. She looks a little woebegone. Maxon pledged that loyalist threat would not damage his family connections. I cannot lose myself in fear, either. I take another deep breath, and the woman staring back reflects a quiet confidence. There. I smooth a tailored blue blazer over my cream-colored day dress, and turn from the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: ****_It goes without saying, but I feel I need to say it: Thanks for continuing to read! KC—thanks for the characters. :)_**

**Anthenachild101: I'm glad it helps! Btw, read the first two one-shots in your collection. You have a really nice voice—I'll post the same to your story after I post. :)**

**The Selection Fangirl, PokemonLuver151, Princess Rose: Thanks so much for continuing to read. I always appreciate knowing you all stopped by! **

**jthornestudent: I'm glad you enjoyed it—I'll do my best.**

**vi-mcmxcviii: Thank you. It is so nerve-wracking to put writing out there, but I am seriously flattered by the review. I love the series and am glad my take reflects that admiration! (But ridiculously hard to respond to your review, because "Squeeeee! *fistbump* didn't seem like quite enough!)**

**SJ**

* * *

I touch the desk in the middle of the room, and pretend I can feel the energy of all the women who used it before me. Maybe if I place my palm on it long enough, I can find support directly from Queen Amberly. Fifteen years later I still think of her almost daily and hope she would be proud of all we accomplished. I glance across the top, and my gaze lingers on framed pictures that adorn the left hand corner—a formal picture of Maxon and his parents, a wedding picture, several candids of our family taken by Maxon.

Marlee has settled in to work at one end of the conference table, organizing project files and making priority lists. I have not told her yet why we are working here. I spare a glance for the clock. It is approaching noon, and still Maxon and Aspen have not made an appearance. I resist the urge to pace. _Dammit, I do not want to explain this myself._

I finally sit, and Marlee's eyes flit in my direction, but says nothing. She knows she will know what she needs to in due time. She is infinitely more patient than I am. Always has been.

I promised Maxon that I would at least be in my study meeting-free from 10 AM until 1:00 PM. _So, where is he?_ Mary appears at my door, curtsying with the utmost formality. Another reason I prefer to work in our rooms, rather than my study. "Yes, Mary? Please come in."

"Your Majesty, may I bring you a lunch tray?"

"Thank you, Mary. We lost track of the time. And please wait in the kitchen while they prepare it, if you can spare a minute or two."

"Of course."

I turn my attention to a blank piece of paper on my blotter. Grabbing a pen, I begin to scratch a to-do list in light of the new developments. Mary will hopefully bring back the kitchen gossip with our lunches. I very much want to hear what the palace staff thinks of last night's drill.

I'm engrossed in my list when Maxon finally appears in the doorway, Carter a half step behind him. Marlee rises and curtsies. I stand and cock my head to the side, stopping short of crossing my arms across my chest. _You're late._ He responds by raising an eyebrow, as if he can tell that I'm thinking, _Trust me?_ I nod imperceptibly.

Our telepathic conversation is interrupted by Mary's arrival. She stops short.

I wave her in. "Oh, thank you Mary. Please, prepare the table. I didn't have a chance to ask you two gentleman if you have taken lunch yet." The tray was piled with croissants stuffed with savory fillings, a bowl of mixed cut fresh fruit, and sliced cake. Mary knew I was waiting for Maxon, and brought enough food for three times as many people. And chocolate cake. Marlee clears our files, and helps set out the plates.

Maxon turns a warm smile to Mary, "Thank you. No need to stay and serve."

She curtsies again and turns to leave. I stop her with, "Mary, I have an idea for the dress you were speaking we me about this morning. Please meet me before dinner in the family rooms."

"Yes, Your Majesty." I know Mary will immediately head to our common room. As silly as it is, I feel better knowing she is there while Carter is here.

"Please, have a seat."

Maxon seems to be enjoying testing my hospitality skills. "Of course, my Queen." His eyes are teasing me gently, as he and Carter both seat themselves. Better to laugh than cry. "It is not every afternoon we have our luncheon with such wonderful company."

"Thank you, my King. Now," I said, as he bit into a croissant filled with chicken salad, "Are you ready to debrief Lady Marlee? I have kept her in suspense all morning. And, since I can only assume Commander Leger will be here shortly…"

"Well, Officer Woodwork, it seems like our esteemed Queen America has had enough of waiting today," Maxon smiles at me and takes my hand across the table. He wipes his mouth, and sighs a little. Marlee looks up, eyes going from one face to another.

She puts her napkin on the table, and quietly says, "This must be quite the announcement. If your goal is to make me incredibly nervous, it has certainly worked." Marlee's usual smile was hidden with a frown of concern.

Maxon quickly and explains about the loyalists, and the measures we have already put into place, and the next immediate steps. He looks at both of us as he concludes, "Commander Leger has new information, and will be arriving here shortly to update all of us. Of course, discretion is of the utmost importance, in and out of the palace."

"In the palace? Confirmed informants on staff?" As Maxon nods, my face betrays my true emotions, and I push my plate from me. Of course, I knew that we've always had spies on staff. And we were usually able to monitor them as much as they monitor us. However, my obvious anguish encourages Carter and Marlee to drop formality. Marlee hops up to close my study door, something that rarely occurs. I stand, and turn from the table. They are truly our friends, not just member of our staff. "Carter, who's at the door to the family rooms?"

"Avery, Queen America."

"And you trust him?"

"Yes. Aspen and I have both depended on him for our lives, more than once."

Maxon pushes his chair from the table, turning his full attention to me. "Come here, Ames" he says, and wraps me in a hug when I respond. He whispers in my ear as Carter and Marlee turn discretely away. "You can do this, love. Rooting out disloyal staff, tracking down a loyalist uprising, should be all in a day's work for the woman who initiated the removal of the caste system, armed the Northern rebels, and gave birth to four children without pain medication." His statements, though teasing, did have a ring of truth. I know he's right, and I fight to subdue the panic that threatens to reveal itself as I receive each new piece of information. "Just think, the calmer we are the easier it will be to keep everyone safe. They _want_ us to fall apart, and I for one am not giving them anything they want." I nod and attempt a smile. "There's my girl." He kisses my temple and squeezes me a little tighter.

When he releases me, I grab the to-list from my desk. And lean against the polished wood "I was making a list of some things we might want to consider," I begin, as there is a sharp staccato knock at the door.

Maxon nods to Carter, and he opens the door. Aspen is framed briefly in the doorway as he ushers in three additional people, and then swiftly closes the door behind him.

Maxon and I both try to hide our surprise as August Illea extends his hand. "Your majesties, I understand you require my assistance."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you for continuing to read, and I always enjoy the reviews. **

**Athenachild101: Hmmmm…interesting consideration. We'll see. ;)**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: Thanks :)**

**jthornestudent: I must have something set weird, b/c reviews are coming in late. Sorry. But thanks, that means a lot. I'm glad you're enjoying it.**

**Totalbooknerd13: Thank you. :)**

**vi-mcmxcviii: Glad you're loving it, and hope the butt-kicking works for you. All I can say is it's coming… Thanks for the encouragement. Looking forward to your constructive critique. Again, appreciate the support. :)**

**The Selection Fangirl: Thanks—and I'll try. I know the chapters started out especially short, and they got longer and longer…**

**Melody: Thanks for the review. I know, right. Those fish or cut bait discussions really suck in a relationship. At least they decided to fish! Hope the rest of the chapters don't disappoint.**

**_Hope you enjoy the next chapter!_**

**SJ**

PS. Did everyone see _The Queen_ novella is coming out in Dec 2014?

* * *

As Maxon shakes August's hand, I mentally pick my jaw up and fix my face into a composed smile. "Good afternoon, Cousins. Would you care for anything to eat?" How long had it been since I had actually seen August and Georgia? It seems like yesterday that told Maxon they could avoid conflict with the Northern rebels by marrying me. Then, they were in the palace the night the Southern rebels attacked. They ultimately saved us from total destruction with the help of weapons provided by way of an Italian alliance orchestrated by me at a tea meant to show I had no connections. Soon after, keeping a low profile, we had attended their wedding. But the peace that had enveloped the palace in the last fifteen years pushed them to the back of my mind. I look at them both, a little dazzled.

Georgia laughs, "I was going to say, only if there's cake, but I see there is." She takes the seat I offer her and the cake Marlee places before her and continues, "America, it is so good to see you again. August and I always knew you were the right choice, both for Maxon and the country. We are so proud of our connection to the direction the country is taking."

"I'm flattered, Georgia, but I'm not sure…" I look questioningly to first Maxon and then Aspen. Blank slates. They give me nothing, and instead make me ask, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

August joins his wife at the table, tilting his head to me. "Cousin, we understand that the Loyalists have managed to organize. And, we know that puts you in an uncomfortable position, as Commander Leger has shared with us. You also know that the Northern rebels protected you with our lives. We are no longer considered rebels, I suppose, since we are allied to a fair and forward-thinking King." He nods in Maxon's direction, "But we are still sworn to protect your monarchy. We did not lose so many of our own only to let cronies of Clarkson regroup and rewind our progress. As you know, over the last fifteen years, that has meant keeping our ears to the ground and our training up-to-date. Now, it means a bit more." August smiles at Marlee as he accepts a piece of cake, as well.

Georgia pats my hand. "I know we were a surprise for you, but when you hear the plan we've developed with Commander Leger's team under the King's approval, we hope you will be on board."

"All I've been hearing about all morning is that Commander Leger has a brilliant plan," I smile, though I grit my back teeth. "I am so looking forward to hearing it."

Aspen sees the warning in my eyes and responds, "Your Majesty, we are all here to keep the people of Illea—including its royal family—from coming to harm." But his eyes speak back, _C'mon, Mer, we're family. You can trust me._

Maxon sits at the table, motioning for Aspen to do the same. We all turn to him as he speaks, "Commander Leger and his team have some interesting information to report. We believe we know the catalyst for the organization of the Loyalists, as well as their ultimate aim. And, as we act, we know that the Queen has some ideas that would help increase the security of the royal family. Commander Leger, you may report."

"First," Aspen looks at me, "We have known that twos loyal to the crown have not ever been supportive of the union between their Crown Prince and a former five. That doesn't mean all twos are loyalists, but King Clarkson's special group received unimaginable perks. They had access to the palace, automatic government contracts. Some were his advisors. Their daughters represented their provinces for the Selection."

I remove myself mentally a little as Aspen speaks, because we know all these things already. When he says the name 'Didasko,' I refocus. "Excuse me did you say, Didasko?" _Breathe in. Breathe out. Portray calm._ Everyone around the table looks at me carefully. I cannot believe Aspen and Maxon neglected to give me a heads up about this, choosing instead to let me hear _that_ name in front of a group of people.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Didasko, former head education advisor, was from a family of twos that helped to organize the university system in the provinces."

Angry. I'm so angry. _Breathe in. Breathe out._ I respond, allowing an icy edge to creep into my voice, "I know that. I was just unaware that his side assignment was to drive a wedge between the King and Queen by whatever means possible as he gathered information for people who would rather see us dead than alive." Aspen nods, eyes approving my reaction. _That's right, Mer. You should be angry._

My eyes flash, "Were we aware of his affiliations when he worked here?"

"No, Your Majesty. We discovered his loyalist bent several months after he left, approximately a year ago." About the same time we had Barrett and Griffin. I look at Maxon, noticing that his face is carefully composed, but his jaw is clenched as tightly as mine is. The hand resting on the table is flat and relaxed, but I know by the tension in his arm that the one in his lap is balled into a tight fist, the knuckles white. Didasko did more than try to subvert our work, he almost succeeded in convincing my husband that I was unfaithful to him. We almost allowed him to ruin our marriage. And, while he had both of us distracted and isolated, he collected the information he needed to begin an uprising and threaten our family. I remind myself, not just our family, but the citizens of Illea, as well.

"So, the ousting of Didasko was a catalyst." I look at the table and furrow my brow, trying to make connections. The Loyalists have never demanded anything or made an overt gesture. Until the last year, they hadn't even been particularly organized. Their businesses were flourishing, though they might not like their children schooling side-by-side the children of the kitchen help, the gold from our new Illean partnerships often flowed through their fingers. They were the most prepared to take advantage of our new alliances and trade agreements. In the palace, their informants collected mostly insignificant data that we didn't mind sharing. Suddenly, I look up, "Parliament. The structure for the province representation started under intense debate two years ago. And it is still being amended. It will still be a few years before even the rudimentary plans can be enacted, but…"

"They're planning to make sure every seat is taken by a Loyalist or a Loyalist puppet," Maxon finishes.

Aspen looks to August, "We gravely underestimated our opponents."

"Easy to do when you were so used to running for your life. This race will be a little bit different, but it can be just as dangerous."

"So, is Didasko the head of the movement?" I ask, impatiently. Every time I say the name, I shiver inwardly. In this very office, he had the penchant for coming to me. Lingering too long after kissing my hand. Making veiled statements about…I push those experiences from my brain. Just theater used to distract. Marlee catches my eye, her face reflecting my disgust. She remembers, too.

Aspen answers, "We believe he is one of three, but we have not pinpointed the other two."

"We have been zeroing in on the sources, but they are extremely careful when it comes to this plan. It isn't close to finished now, and it has been fifteen years in the making," August explains. "They aren't going to risk the ultimate goal by getting sloppy. The only reason we know about Didasko," he nods to Aspen to finish the statement.

"The only reason we know about Didasko, Queen America, is because he holds a special resentment for you. We believe he has taken your rejection personally, and then the King added insult when dismissing him from the council. It's loosened his lips, thankfully. But it also means in no uncertain terms that you are a target."

I want to jump up and run from the room. I want to throw myself in Maxon's arms, and let him comfort me with kisses. I want to dash the stack of dessert plates against the far wall. Instead I say, surprising myself with my composure, "So, what's next?"

Georgia says, "Cousin, Commander Leger shared your wish to be trained in self-defense tactics. That you wish the older children, Lady Marlee and Lady May to be trained. We think that is an excellent idea. Our son Ethan has been learning tactics since he was Abrielle's age. So, as long as you do not mind, I will be joining your staff as one of your personal assistants. This way, I can be with you and Lady Marlee at all times of the day without drawing undue attention to myself."

I nod quietly. I dearly hope my face is still composed. My eyes finally turn to the third member of the Northern group. Her face looks familiar, but I can't place why. I give her a warm smile, "We've met, haven't we? I'm sorry, but you'll have to remind me of your name."

"Paige, your Majesty," as she tilts her head in my direction, I travel back in time. My hand unconsciously goes to the scar hidden under my blazer. Another few inches to the left…

"Ah! That it explains why I can't remember," I try to joke. "I don't think I ever properly thanked you for helping me that night."

"Oh, Your Majesty," Paige explained, "You helped me more than I helped you!"

Georgia continues, "Paige has been working with us since you saved her from the fate of a young girl without family on the streets. She is a highly trained informant, and part of the new security plan for the palace. Cousin America, she's one of the best in Illea, maybe the world. You asked for the best. Again, if you agree, Paige will join your staff as a nanny to the children. She can train them and Lady May, and should the need arise, defend them."

We spent most of the rest of the afternoon sketching out training schedules and security plans, including ways not to draw attention to those same necessary plans. I participated fully in the strategy session with Maxon's encouragement. He is not as quick as he once was to scoff at my ideas. The light outside the windows turns dusky and Aspen stands, commenting to Maxon and the Northern team, "Now might be a good time to leave. We will have you reenter the palace tomorrow under your new employment."

I feel relief when I hear Maxon dismiss the team, and watch as Carter and Marlee leave to head back to our family rooms. "America," Marlee says quietly, "We'll wait until you and Maxon return."

"Thank you," I smile genuinely. "Could you arrange time for May to talk to Carter? That is, if you're willing to debrief her. I know she is probably anxious to hear."

"Of course," Carter nods and they both head out the door. They are careful not to touch in the palace hallways, but anyone could tell how tenderly they feel for one another just by looking at them.

Maxon quietly shuts the study door and turns to me, holding out his hand. I go to him and take it, but refuse to let any more tears roll down my cheeks today. The Loyalists have already stolen enough of my time. He cocks his head and looks at me saying, "I always knew you'd be a good queen for Illea, America. Today is just another example."

I exaggerate a curtsy, trying to lighten the mood. I really don't want him to extol my virtues while my motivation today was to stay alive. He does chuckle and pulls me the rest of the way into his arms, "I love you," he tilts my chin up and places a soft kiss against my lips. "Always."

"Better enjoy that while you can," I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck and playing with his collar. "So many people are going to be in our common rooms..."

His next kiss stops me from finishing my statement. The one after makes me forget what I was saying.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **

**mundane-pansycakes: Love your screen name, btw. I've been thinking about a scene with Magda… my stumbling block? How would an adult America with her own large family interact with the parent she was less connected with? Thanks for reading. I'm glad you enjoyed it!**

**Totalbooknerd13: Your review made me laugh out loud—seriously, people were looking at me. :)**

**going for the win: Doing my best, thanks!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: Thanks for continuing to read and review. I know re: ****_The Queen_****. I feel the same way—can't wait to read it. But, then what if she doesn't write any more. Then I don't want to read it because these series truly would be done. **

**prnamber3909 and Llol: Thanks for sticking with me. What do you think of the new development?**

**jthornestudent: Thanks—glad it's keeping your interest. It's hard for me to push the story aside so I can get end-of-the-semester stuff done. **

**As always, thanks for reading. I always enjoy reading your reviews. :)**

* * *

"No," I whine, and bury my face back in the pillow, trying to catch a few more minutes of precious sleep.

Maxon just laughs at me, poking at the ticklish places on my sides, "Come on, America. We'll miss breakfast, and I am almost positive you can't count on me for dinner tonight."

He starts to pull the white down comforter from me, and I follow it on its trajectory almost falling off the end of the bed. Finally I relent, and sit up. "I'm up…I'm up." A yawn catches me off guard while I stretch. "This is your fault you know. That meeting yesterday took everything out of me." I fix my face in a frown, as I really open my eyes for the first time that morning.

Graciously, the light in our room was still dim. Dawn has not yet broken, but our customary tray already sits on the table. Maxon stands at the end of the bed, comforter in hand. His hair is wet from the shower, but he only wears dark sweatpants for breakfast. Shirts really do not do his muscular trunk any justice. I can't help but comment, "So, we're dressing formally for breakfast, then?"

He offers me his hand and pulls me to my feet. "Of course, as always." His eyes roam over my nightclothes and focus on my bare legs, "All those nightgowns in your drawer and you grab my undershirt to sleep in?"

I shrug, "It was close. I was tired. And," I tease, throwing on my terry cloth robe and padding to the table, "Maybe I missed you last night. When did you finally come to bed?" I take the tea cup Maxon offers, already full of tea.

"I don't even know, love. I couldn't bear to look. Aspen and I are grabbing odd times to review and update each other. If he is in my office too much during the day, the advisory council will notice. We had to have the meeting after the meeting, and I'm not ready to share details with anyone more than Stavros."

Stavros is the only remaining advisor from Clarkson's council, but he has always been especially allied to Maxon. Even when Clarkson was still alive, Stavros would support Maxon's ideas in council meetings. "What does Stavros think of the situation?"

Maxon sighs, taking a bite of muffin, "He feels betrayed. These families are friends and confidants, Ames. He personally recommended Didasko for his education position."

I just nod and change the subject slightly, "Is the training room prepared?"

"Another thing we checked on last night. Yes, but again, the children will train with May and Paige in the nursery at first. It's the best way to keep Barrett and Griffin secure, without advertising Cal and Brie's new skill. Georgia will work with Marlee and you in the training room."

"We're starting this morning. I don't like feeling helpless. And I felt helpless when the alarms went off the other night."

We're silent for a while as we focus on our food and let ourselves think. "Mary says the staff is beginning to talk. They realize that we had a drill, but they are speculating as to why it happened at night."

"I guess there really isn't such a thing as a palace secret, is there?"

"No, Maxon. I guess not. But she also shared that the kitchen staff are saying that we will not let anything happen to them. So, it seems like the staff is still on your side."

He smiles at that but adds, "Love, they're on _our_ side."

* * *

Dressed in loose-fitting, guard-issue sweatpants and t-shirts, Marlee and I meet Georgia in the training room. I did not grow up training, and neither had Marlee. Never being able to afford seconds, walking everywhere we went—and Marlee's work in the fields—kept our figures slim and even toned during prosperous seasons. Maxon participates in military training; even to this day Carter is his favorite sparring partner.

Georgia stands, feet slightly apart bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her shorts skim her knees and her t-shirt looks specially made for this type of work. An excited grin spreads across her face as we enter the room. "I've been waiting for you, Your Majesty. Lady Marlee."

After the fifteenth time of Georgia extending her hand and helping up off the mat, I believe she anticipated the work of the morning. It seems like she's enjoying knocking me flat. Marlee hasn't fared much better. I try to contain my irritation, but it is hard to be composed from a prone position on the floor.

"Ready to throw in the towel?"

"Never."

"Now I have another reason to like you, America." After about the fifth time of landing me on my back, I insisted that she drop "Your Majesty" in informal situations, as it sounded more and more like a taunt. Especially from the floor.

The sixteenth time that she tries to immobilize me from behind, I aim my elbow for the middle of her body and hear a satisfying grunt as she grabs my wrist. "Much better. See how much more trouble I have controlling you by your wrist than I do with your neck?"

"Sure," I exhale, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. "I think Marlee and I were just talking about that the other day." I grab the t-shirt, pulling the fabric away from my body. I refrain from rolling my eyes because I have no desire to land on the floor again. But Georgia just grins at the joke and I know I'm safe.

"I always say you can never underestimate a strong quick to the groin" laughs Marlee, as I grab a towel off the pile on the floor. My furious blush is already hidden by the impact of the exercise. I ball up a clean towel and throw it at her. Very few people know the story of the first night I met Maxon. She catches it and winks at me.

* * *

Freshly washed and dressed, I stand silently and watch through the doorway as Paige works with Cal and Brie. Marlee and Georgia sit in my office alcove, looking at my schedule and planning training sessions around meetings and appearances. _Breathe in. Breathe out_. Paige is teaching my children skills that are essential for someone in the public eye to know. I know now it was foolish to think otherwise. If we didn't have the Loyalists looming on the horizon, something else would be. Brie catches me watching and calls to me, "Watch, Mama! Watch what Miss Paige taught me!"

"I know, Baby. You're doing so well! You, too, Cal. I'm proud of you both."

Paige looks at me and smiles, "They're naturals, Your Majesty."

May leaves the training mat and comes to stand with me. Barrett and Griffin, who had be diligently copying Cal's movements, follow Aunt May across the floor. Griffin puts his hands up and grunts, "Up," while Barrett is satisfied to lean on one leg. So, I scoop Griffin up to eye level and smile at May. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for this, May."

"Oh, America, it's just what family does!"

I draw a breath, "Talked to Carter last night. Do you have any questions? Are you sure you don't want to leave, May? I don't want to keep you away from Evan."

"America, I couldn't leave just when you needed me most. Marlee mentioned the public expects you to start traveling again, now that Barrett and Griffin are older. Besides, Evan lives ten minutes down the road. What makes you think you're keeping me away from him?" She wiggles her eyebrows to make me laugh and succeeds.

"Okay, okay. No details, _baby_ sister."

She smiles and then nods to Paige, "She's good. I trust her already, and the kids are certainly enamored with her. I'd let you know if I felt differently."

I decide to ask May what she thinks of an idea that has been brewing in the back of my brain. "May, do you think we should move Mom and Gerad here? I'm worried for them, but worry that the closer they are to me, the more of a target they'll become. I just want to keep them safe."

"Here, there. Everyone knows we're you're family, America. We're the fives who were vaulted into fame and fortune and royalty solely because of your marriage to Maxon. Some see us as hangers-on. Some Loyalists see us as undeserving. Some see us as examples of what could be with enough work and luck. But no matter how people feel about us, the work you do with Maxon is important. Ames, children are being educated, hungry people are being fed. You've stopped wars with three different factions on three different fronts. And you still manage to hang on to love. No wonder they want to throw obstacles in your way. Otherwise, it would be way too easy for you two to take over the world!"

"And I do it all in conservative day dresses and coordinated sensible pumps," I quip.

She laughs and hugs me, "Dad would be proud of you, Sis."

"He'd be proud of you, too."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, so far. Fair warning, this chapter is short. But, after I get a certain amount done on the end-of-the-semester work, I will let myself write a longer piece. (Plus, I see it as a bridge chapter and an attempt to get unstuck. I know the next step-why won't it just appear on the page like I want?!)**

**Totalbooknerd13: This time of year, laughs are needed! I'm glad you enjoyed the family bonding-I worried it was awkward... :)**

**prnamber3909: Thanks for stopping in. I could totally see an exchange like that between an adult May and her big sis. But, like I told Totalbooknerd13, I'm glad you like it. Because I thought it might be awkward? Maybe not. :)**

**As always, happy reading! SJ**

* * *

Maxon lies on the floor of his study blood pooling around him, saturating the antique rug under his desk. I am not sure which wound to cover first. There are so many. His chest heaves. Aspen lies beside him unmoving, body immobilizing Maxon's legs. The blooms of red on his chest say that he is not just sleeping. True to the end.

I freeze, then in a flurry of movement collapse next to Maxon. Pleading. "Don't leave me, not now. Not like this." I tear off my sweater, pressing it to the wound on his chest. The white fabric soaks through. It is only seconds before my hands are covered. It's all over me now. Not just my hands. Up my arms, my neck. I am swimming in it. Drowning. If I scream will anyone hear me? Will anyone care? Where is Avery? Carter? August? Maxon struggles to open his eyes, "America..."

I fall forward, sobs wracking my body. Words are useless. I think I'm screaming but it doesn't matter. Let them come for me. They took my babies. They took my husband. Gone. Everyone is gone. Please. Take me, too.

"America."

I scream and scream and scream.

"America!"

I start up when the door to the hallway opens. "Your Majesties?" It's Avery.

"We're fine, Officer Avery."

"We're?" Not fine. I'll never be fine again. I open my eyes, my fists are clenched in the covers, twisting them in knots. How did I get here? Tears still run in rivers down my face, covering my mouth and chin.

I watch the door close and see Maxon's silhouette next to me.

"Maxon?" I gasp, confused, wild-eyed.

I collapse against his chest. "It was only a dream, love," he whispers into my hair and he holds me to him as I grip his shoulders. "Only a dream." Eventually the silent sobs slow and then stop.

I gingerly pull away from him and wipe my hands across my eyes. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, using the tail of it to dry the rest of my face before tossing it to the floor. I notice he's still wearing his suit pants. Late nights are normal around here, but collapsing into bed still clothed is not. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak yet. I have no desire to relive it. I lean into him again, feeling the warm skin of his chest against my cheek. Breathing in his scent while I can. He puts his arms around me and leans back into the pillows. "Whenever you're ready," he comforts, so close to my ear that his lips touch my hair.

"What time is it?"

"About 4:00 AM, love."

"You're still dressed."

"We were talking about you, America, not me." He closes his eyes, but I know he is completely alert. Especially now.

"I don't know if I will ever talk about it." I fear if I give a voice to the dream it might come true. My breath gets caught in my throat, "Gone. Just gone." I shiver involuntarily and he pulls me closer. I turn on my side to look him in the eye, catching sight of the scar from a bullet meant for me. What's to keep him from throwing himself in harm's way again? His chest has the bullet wound, but his back bears the evidence of how much he is willing to suffer to protect me. And thinking that way becomes too much. I don't know if I can sit and wait for the Loyalists to bring the fight to me.

"Maxon?"

"Yes?" He opens his eyes to look at me, serious.

"I can't let our home become a gilded cage for our children. They deserve more."

His eyes reflect the sadness in his voice, "I know. And so do you, America. So do you."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So, I got some work done, and rewarded myself with a little writing. :) Thanks for continuing to read. **

**mundane-pansycakes: Could probably work. Thanks for reading and commenting. :)**

**Totalbooknerd13: Hopefully so. Waking up from a dream that real is hard to shake...**

**jthornestudent: Thanks. The characters aren't being totally cooperative, but the should be back on track soon.**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: Thanks for the encouragement. They haven't been my favorite chapters. Possibly necessary... :)**

_**Thanks, Everyone!**__ SJ_

* * *

Daylight did not dim the uneasiness that settles over me. I can't shake the feeling that for all our strategies and planning, we are missing something.

After training with Georgia again, I head to the rifle range, alone. She and Marlee let me go, and I don't answer their questioning looks. Guns are not my favorite weapon, but after the Southern rebels invaded the palace, killing so many we cared for, I insisted that Maxon show me how to fire a handgun. It is something I never thought I'd want to know. But if I had known that day, Aspen never would have been so seriously injured. I was a familiar sight here for a full year afterward, especially when the nightmares started. As our family grew, I came less and less. Since my pregnancy with Barrett and Griffin, I hadn't even ventured to the training grounds at all.

I don't know much about materials and caliber and range. I leave that to Maxon and Aspen. But I know which handgun feels best in my hand. I choose from the case, trying out several. Then look around the gallery, and am satisfied that I am alone. I check my weapon and load the chamber. I'm not sure if my target practice will ever be of much use in an actual attack, but feeling the kickback in my arm satisfies me. I pull the trigger five more times, the bullets cluster around the heart of the target. I relax my stance. Letting my arms fall to my side. I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Morning, Mer. I haven't seen you down here in ages."

I start, not expecting anyone behind me. And after my dream last night, his voice is not one I really want to hear.

I make a noise that could be a greeting.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I want to shoot targets. And I want to do it alone." I'm not ready for words this morning. There have been so many words. So much talking.

"The nightmares started again." It wasn't a question, and I didn't answer. Instead, I turn my back to him and aim. This time the bullets cluster in the head.

"Remind me not to ever do anything where I am looking at you from the other end of one of those." I rebuff his attempt to talk, and raise an eyebrow in reply. I reload.

"Okay, Mer. A guard training rotation will be starting in 20 minutes."

I nod and turn my back.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Mary is putting the finishing touches on my hair. Another strategy meeting, this time with Stavros. I was hoping to grab a minute to read a story to Brie and the little boys. Cal is in class. I'm not sure I've seen him in the last twenty-four hours.

As Mary steps away from the mirror, she smiles a genuine smile. I suddenly feel wistful and grab her hand. "Mary, could you ever imagine when you first met me that I would be Queen of Illea?"

"I hoped, Your Majesty. And so did Anne and Lucy. And the longer we knew you, the more we were sure that Prince Maxon would pick the best woman in the competition. And that was always you." She squeezes my hand back, then curtsies and steps away from the dressing table.

"Thank you."

Mary stops at the door and turns to me, "And if I may say, you exceed our expectations."

_Breathe. Breathe._ I take one last glance at my outfit-black dress pants, sapphire blue silk blouse peeking out from the black fitted jacket. Pearls. Hair in a sensible knot. Everyone is used to my day dresses, but the suit called to me today. It might raise a few eyebrows, but I always have.

I cross our common room, my black patent pumps singing a staccato across the floor. Marlee and Georgia wait for me in my alcove. They're giving my touring schedule another once over. Georgia looks up and smiles, and Marlee laughs outright. "I think the meeting this afternoon is going to be interesting," she tells Georgia. "It's in twenty, America."

"I know. I just-". I motioned to the door of the nursery. I had asked Paige and May to keep the little ones close while I dressed.

Her expression softens, "Go ahead. They can wait if need be."

I open the door and am engulfed in hugs. I sit on the floor and gather my three littlest into my lap.

"Mama!" Abrielle exclaims. "Is it Saturday?"

"No, baby," I laugh, "It's not. It's Thursday."

"But girls wear dresses on Thursday."

I nod, "Some girls do, Brie. But today, this girl wears pants! Now, what should we read? Let's each pick one!"

* * *

I straighten my blouse under my jacket and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. I exchange a meaningful look with Marlee and Georgia, and take a deep breath. "Let's do this," I mutter, and turn the corner to Maxon's study. The guards on either side of the door, Avery of course, and someone I recognize stand at strict attention. They greet me properly, bowing at the waist. I hold out my hand to the newcomer. He wouldn't be there if Carter didn't think he was exceptional. Checking his name badge, I say, "Welcome to the team, Officer Riley. Thank you for your service." The men in the room behind me hear my voice and stand, Maxon allows a small smile to cross his face as he watches the expressions around the table. He is used to me acknowledging the people who help me every day. As I walk confidently into the room, even he looks a little surprised about the pants. Let them look. If they can strategize in pants, so can I.

"Gentleman, please sit," I say smiling at them each in turn. Maxon pulls out the chair beside him, and seats me before seating himself. We all take our seats. It is time to get to work.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Whether you review, follow, and fav or not, thanks for continuing to read! :) SJ

Totalbooknerd13: Someone's gotta... And, thanks for sticking with it. Finding myself looking forward to your reviews! :)

jthornestudent: I enjoy reading your reviews-thanks for keeping up with the story and reviewing frequently! I appreciate it.

sushi: Thanks so much-longer chapters to come after June 7! :)

* * *

Maxon paces by his desk, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie. "I don't like the idea." He had long ago abandoned the illusion of calm and dignified grace.

Stavros glances at me, my stony expression, and my arms across my chest, "If I may, Sire, the idea has merit."

"Explain."

Stavros glances warily at both of us, then around the table. Aspen and Carter hold their faces neutral. August looks like he is exerting a Herculean effort in resisting his urge to laugh. Stavros is serious. Georgia and Marlee both narrow their eyes and stick out their chins. It's a standoff down gender lines, and Stavros looks like he plans to broker peace.

"Commander Leger mentioned the Queen is a target, but she is also a favorite of many. And she hasn't been out as much as usual. Even after Abrielle, she completed double the appearances. And it softened those with negative opinions when she brought the young princess with her. The public can see how much Queen America cares about the people when she spends extended time with them. And the idea that she can build alliances with previous twos," he looks at me, "Might work. After all, you know some of their daughters personally."

"Only the Selected truly know what it's like to be a Selected. By the end, Celeste, Elise, Kriss, and I were friends. Even in the heat of the final rounds of competition, we were the only ones who understood the pressure. We depended on each other." I look reproachfully at Maxon as he walks a path around his desk. His jaw is set and his arms mirror my own.

"So we're willing to sacrifice the Queen's safety to continue this uneasy peace? Because I am not."

"It's not peace," I begin, looking him in the eye. "It's the calm before the storm. The storm that will take apart everything we have worked for—the end to the caste system, universal education, and a functioning parliament. The Loyalists live in the past because it favored them, even as they don't acknowledge how dependent we are on each other. The only way to find the other two Loyalist leaders is for someone unassuming listening in the right places at the right times. Would you rather invite all your father's old friends to stay with us in the palace?"

Maxon answers my sarcasm with a cold look that I think I deserve. I don't usually strike low, but I am barely containing my frustration. Georgia, Marlee, and I had come at the issue from all angles already. My education tour would be an opportunity to connect with the people and monitor system implementation throughout the provinces. But it could also be an opportunity to fracture Loyalist support.

"I think it will work, and we can minimize the risk." Aspen's quiet assent stills the argument, and Carter gives one short nod in agreement.

Maxon uncrosses his arms and runs a hand through his hair. Then he looks steadily at me, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's not that I want to; rather, it needs to be done. And it won't be expected."

He finally nods, relenting, and sits back down at the table. "But I want to double the usual security detail."

Two hours later, my education tour was planned. Georgia, Marlee, and Aspen would be joining me, though I had argued valiantly for Carter instead. I wanted Aspen back at home, protecting Maxon. Everyone had argued against me on that point. Aspen usually travels so much, his comings and goings wouldn't be noticed. Sadly, we wouldn't be taking the twins. It was too risky, and we didn't want to separate Paige from Cal. However, it would be conspicuous if I didn't take at least one of the children. So, Abrielle would be joining us, along with Mary. I was happy about that decision, because even though the schedule would be grueling, I would get to spend a little more time than usual with my little girl. We also decided my tour schedule would be unannounced in advance, under the guise that I didn't want to put undue stress on the schools. Really, it provides a touch of added security. Maxon, Aspen, and I would be choosing the order of the provinces. In each province, I would attempt to meet with Selected participants. Security would be heightened in all provinces at the beginning of the tour, since my visits would be unannounced.

Maxon squeezes my knee discretely under the table. I arch my brow a little and give him a small smile. Apology accepted. "Ladies and gentlemen, good work today." He checks his watch, "It looks like we'll have time for dinner with our families this evening."

Everyone pushes back from the table. Aspen and Carter salute Maxon and turn on their heels. Stavros tilts his head to each of us and excuses himself. August extends his hand to Georgia and they bow slightly as they leave the room. Marlee, the last to leave, smiles at us both. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Relax tonight, Marlee. The next two weeks of preparations are going to be brutal."

She curtsies and heads down the hall. Maxon and I linger in the doorway of his study, our sides touching a bit.

"It goes without saying that I'm still not truly in favor of this tour."

I sigh, "I already told you, Maxon. This isn't about what we want. It's about what we need to do." I move away from him and turn into the room, preparing for an argument I think is inevitable.

He cocks his head at me, "I know, love. I just wish we could go together." In two strides we are face to face again, and he leans down and kisses my cheek. "It's hard to send you out like this with all the unknowns." He tone shifts, "Plus, breakfast will be lonely."

I snort, "I bet Mary won't miss bringing a tray at a quarter 'til five in the morning." My expression softens as I touch the furrow in his brow, "I'll miss you, too." He covers my hand and brings my palm to his lips. After a lingering embrace, we walk leisurely back to spend a rare quiet evening with the kids.

* * *

Later that night, I slip my robe off and collapse into the sheets with a sigh. "I think Griffin's down for the night now."

"Do you want to make a wager on that?" Maxon grins at me over his book. "It's like he knows I was kissing his mother."

"I almost let May take care of it, but in two weeks…" I trail off. Being outside of the palace is a welcome change, but I hate leaving the boys behind. And the sinister edge to this trip even makes me nervous to bring Brie. Over dinner this evening, Cal had pouted and Brie was ecstatic over the impending trip. Cal had insisted he should be going because he was Crown Prince, and Brie had insisted in true four-year-old style that the trip was for "girls only." We couldn't tell them that because Cal was the Crown Prince is one of the reasons he has to stay home. That, and the logistics of an entourage that would have to account for his schooling and security just seemed too much to negotiate right now. We appeased him with the new information that he would be learning to shoot, something he had been advocating for since he could string sentences together.

Maxon places his book to the side and opens his arms to me, and I gratefully curl against him, head on his bare chest. I hear his heart beats increase as his hands span my back. His fingers tease the straps of my nightgown. Softly but mischievously I remind him, "Remember, our kissing wakes the children."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thanks for continuing to read. I've been working one my end-of-semester project non-stop, but got to a point where I could reward myself with fun writing. Hope you enjoy this installment! **

**jthornestudent: Thanks! I hope CH 16 didn't disappoint! :)**

**Issi Herondale: Thanks for the feedback. Maybe this chapter slows it down a bit? **

**sushi: Thanks. This piece is a little longer, but I can't promise longer chapters until after June 7. Hope you like it!**

**Totalbooknerd13: Welcome back! I am looking forward to showing the dynamic between Abrielle and America, too. Kids seem to have that 6th sense when their parents want to be alone. Why would royal ones be any different? Glad I could make you laugh! :)**

**oreocheesecakes: Thanks so much for your long review. I 'm glad to hear you don't mind the skips in time, because that's exactly why I am using them. Makes me happy to read you're enjoying it! Can't wait to see what you think of this chapter. :)**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: I know, right? They can't have King Clarkson's buddies roaming the palace with their babies! Thanks for stopping by, always enjoy your comments! :)**

**_Happy reading! SJ_**

* * *

The two weeks before the trip flew by with trainings and meetings and wardrobe fittings. The night before our departure all the kids tumble into our bed while I check through the luggage one last time with Mary. It's an obnoxious amount considering the number of changes we'll have to make depending on event, even though I tried to simplify by only taking certain colors and accessories that will be worn multiple times. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Abrielle and Cal begin a tickle battle with Barrett and Griffin. As is typical of Griffin, he's right in the middle of the action, trying to double-team his sister and shrieking with Cal. Barrett watches from a nest of pillows by the headboard, laughing at the other three, but making sure his ticklish spot-the soles of his feet-are hidden from his siblings. I stop to watch them, knowing these are the moments I'd miss most over the next few weeks.

Mary doesn't try to hide her grin that turns to an all-out laugh. "You do so well letting them be just regular children," she tells me quietly, wiping tears from her eyes. "I can just imagine you, Lady May, Lady Kenna, and Mister Gerad doing the same thing back in Carolina."

"That's because we did, Mary. The only difference is we used to pile on Daddy, and had Kota, too." Thoughts of Kota always came with a pang of guilt, especially since I had practically thrown him out of the family right before Maxon and I were engaged. I had even threatened damage to his hands, which are necessary to his work as a sculptor. I still am a bit embarrassed for how I acted that day, even though my anger and actions were justified. Still, without Dad, there is a hole in our family. Kota wouldn't fill that emptiness any more than Aspen does, but having another to share in the childhood memories… And Mom misses him, even as hateful as he was at the end. When he returned to his apartment, he never came back to the family home. I'm not even sure where he is living now. I give her a little smile, and I can tell she knows I am thinking about my long-lost brother. Thank goodness I don't need to explain my sudden nostalgic expression.

Brie breaks my train of thought by shrieking through the bedroom and into the common room with Cal on her heels and Griffin toddling after. Barrett is in the middle of the bed now, flat on his back laughing with his eyes squeezed shut. I laugh along with Mary, and tickle his feet as I pull him onto my hip. He bestows a wet kiss on my cheek and pats me, and I plant a kiss on his head. He's my only redhead, and his hair is proving to be quite fiery. Thankfully, his temper seems the most even out of the whole lot. "I love you, too, Baer," I say. "Do you want to get down or do you want to help us pack up?"

We're working on having him ask for what he wants instead of just giving it to him. He's so easy-going that he has few strong opinions about how he spends his time. Barrett seems to consider the question from all angles, and then says deliberately, "Down." I sneak one more kiss, and set him down by the door. He stops and surveys the common room before heading out across the rug. So serious for 15 months.

Mary and I set back to work as the voices of the children playing drift back to me from the common room. Occasionally, I hear Paige responding to something they have said. I wish May or Paige could also come with us. But, Paige is protecting the boys and May will help with everything else. And, if anything should happen to me, I want May here. One of the considerations we made when determining who would go and who would stay was the interconnectedness of our team. Carter and Marlee, married with a family of their own, shouldn't be in danger of losing both parents. Even though Maxon and I were the only ones in the palace who know that August and Georgia are Illea's, we didn't send them together. Their son Ethan is only 14. So, Georgia is going but leaving Ethan and August behind. Mary has no direct familial attachments except for us. I think through all of this while I check Abrielle's bags. "Oh, Mary, this one is truly beautiful and it fits Brie's personality perfectly." I lift a delicate green child's evening dress from the bag. The cap-sleeved bodice had a short waist and fell into layers of green chiffon. "You truly outdid yourself. She won't want to take it off for bed." I look around the space, "Do we have our traveling clothes laid out for tomorrow?" Mary reminds me where I put my pants suit. I think it simultaneously makes me look more powerful and more approachable, so much so that I had ordered four additional suits for the trip. Then I make sure Brie's clothes are laid out. She insists on dresses right now, so we chose a comfortable one that would show she is very much a real little girl and not a porcelain doll.

"Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?" Mary asks. I know she needs to go and make sure she is ready for the trip as well.

"After we move these bags to the main doorway, could you find someone to send up some chamomile tea? I have a feeling I may have difficulty calming myself for sleep tonight."

"Of course," Mary replies. "And, I'll let Paige and Lady May know it is time to round the children up to change into their pajamas. Will you be doing the bedtime story tonight?"

"Yes, I think so," I grin, as we move the luggage to the main door of the common room. "Unless they pass out from utter exhaustion before then. In that case, I will leave them where they drop. I am going to change first, however." I examine my skirt and heels, thinking that my pajamas and robe would be a better choice.

"Very well, Your Majesty," Mary curtsies, smile still playing across her face.

In what seems like only moments later, the bedroom door opens again and I am amused to see Maxon awkwardly carrying in a small tea tray. I stay at my dressing table, removing the pins from my hair, already wearing light blue, long-sleeve satin pajamas. The cuff of the pants brush the top of my bare feet, and my fresh manicure reflects the pale color. I watch his reflection in the mirror as he unloads the tray. In moments like these I can forget that I am Queen and he is King and the little people in the next room are growing into similar responsibilities. Right now, we can be just Maxon and America. He catches me watching him and raises an eyebrow as he begins to smile. Moving to the dressing table, he stands behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders, "What are you smiling at?" He already knows the answer.

"You," I place my hand over his and squeeze them lightly. "Sometimes it's nice to see you work a little," I tease.

A look of mock horror crosses his face before the grin returns, "I know. I really need to start pulling my own weight around here. I'm turning over a new leaf." As I remove the last pin, he takes the hairbrush from the table top and works it through my hair. This doesn't happen often, and I let him. After a minute or so, he stops and looks at me in the mirror, like he is taking a picture of this moment in his mind. The next time he speaks, his voice is huskier and his eyes more serious, "It seems like every time I think you can't look more beautiful, Ames, you do." He sits on the bench with me, resting his back against the table but leaning towards me. "Promise me you'll be careful, love. No unnecessary risk?" Before I can say anything, his lips are meeting mine and his hands are in my hair. I respond, wrapping my arms around his neck. A knock at the door separates us.

"America, they're ready for their story now," May's voice floats into our room.

"Be right there, May." Maxon offers me a hand to help me stand. "Would you like to read with me?"

"I'll get to do that every night for the next three weeks. Why don't you go, and I'll get ready for bed."

"Okay," I say, touching his cheek with the palm of my hand. Then I kiss him quickly, but intently, "But hold that thought." I wrap myself in my robe and look over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of him shaking his head in amusement as he turns to the bathroom.

A long half-hour later and I re-enter the room to find Maxon at the breakfast table, absentmindedly tapping his teaspoon and pouring over a file folder. The furrow between his brow and intent look in his eyes clues me in that this might be the latest intelligence report from Aspen. He doesn't look up as he says, "Aspen just returned from Kent. No one paid much attention to his surprise inspection. Seems like the twos there are less sympathetic to the Loyalist movement. They are prospering from our changes. Plus, they were horrified with Marlee's public caning. It looks like a good place to start your tour, love."

I lean myself over the back of his chair, wrapping my arms around him, "Hmm." I move closer, and brush my lips across his neck, paying attention to the area underneath his ear. I know I have his full attention when he drops the spoon. "Maxon," I whisper directly into his ear.

"Yes, love?" He struggles to say the words.

"Can we possibly talk about this in the morning?" I punctuate each syllable with a kiss along his neck.

He drops the folder.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I think this is my longest chapter yet! But, it will probably mean not updating for a few days. I have to save up some time again. Every time I finish a benchmark, I let myself write some more. Thanks for reading! SJ**

Totalbooknerd13: She is about to leave for three weeks... ;)

prnamber3909: I don't think he minds, most of the time. :)

rebecca di silva: Thanks so much. I hope you enjoyed it!

The Devil Wears Westwood: Awww, they've learned their lesson. They make time now. :)

jthornestudent: Thanks, I hope it lives up to expectations.

sushi: I appreciate it. I am truly flattered. Hope this chapter tides you over. Thanks again!

* * *

I trace a finger up and down his arm from his shoulder to his wrist and back again. He shivers a little at the light touch, a smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "Aren't you tired, Ames? Tomorrow isn't going to be an easy day." He adjusts himself on the pillows so he holds me closer to him, his head resting softly against mine.

"I know, but if I go to sleep…" I can't bring myself to say that I'm scared the same nightmare will play itself out again, not to mention that my trip will no longer be something we're preparing for, but something that must be navigated and completed. Never had two weeks passed so quickly.

He runs his hand through my hair, pulls back a little so he can look me in the eyes. "It'll be over before you know it. And you'll be home safe with us again." He says it as if he is convincing himself of his words as well as me. "Won't it be nice to get away for a bit? And you'll have all that time with Brie."

"I'm looking forward to seeing Kriss and Elise," I confess. "And I hope to see the Newsomes. Running from place to place will be bad enough, but showing up unannounced is so awkward and delicate to arrange. I have school schedules and personal schedules for the next three weeks from every province. We will be coordinating hundreds of people all at one time."

He runs a palm over my much more pronounced bicep and makes an appreciative noise. "With these new arms, I think you can handle anything. Training with Georgia is agreeing with you,"

I stifle a laugh and flex my arm, "I'll be able to drop anyone who awkwardly grabs me from behind. Woe to the person who tries it." I prop myself up a little on my elbow, let his hands run over my bare back. "Aspen asked me if I want to conceal and carry again." I think back to Maxon training me to shoot, and how to hide a holstered weapon. How eventually the attacks on the palace became an unpleasant and painful memory. After the treaties were brokered, I gradually dropped the habit. And I was happy to. Very few people even knew that I had the skill.

He brushes my now-serious face with his palm, "What did you say?"

"I think you know. That I needed to talk with you."

"And?"

"I hate the thought, Maxon. Though, I'm almost as good of a shot as you. I can go head-to-head with Aspen, and I'm better than Georgia. I am also truly horrible at defending myself with my hands. It makes sense."

He cocks his head, "But?"

"A gun? On my person twenty-four hours a day. Isn't that giving in to fear? Isn't that admitting that everything is falling apart? The last thing I want Brie to see is me strapping a holster to my thigh." I switch to a false voice, mocking Gavril's stage presence, "Our lovely Queen wears a black dress with matching jacket, and in her pocket? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is a Baby Browning .25."

Maxon's face is sympathetic as he cradles me in his arms. "I've had mine within hands reach for the past six months. But that doesn't mean you have to do the same. Aspen and his team, including Georgia, will be there for you and Brie. And in the palace, your guards are everywhere. If they had to choose, they would definitely pick protecting you over me."

That last statement brings a half-smile to my face, "That is true. I do-"

"Inspire loyalty, I know, love," he chuckles softly and kisses my forehead. "And you certainly do."

My muscles finally release the tension in my back and I relax fully. An involuntary yawn contradicts my assertion that I have absolutely no interest in sleep. I doze against his chest, waking ever so often to assure myself that he is still there.

The absence of his warmth ultimately wakes me. After a moment of confusion and general bleariness, I see him,  
dressed except for his coat, sitting at the breakfast table. He holds his coffee mug and works through the folders from last night. Aspen's reports are certainly thorough. I stifle a sigh and slip into my robe. No use denying reality. Despite my best efforts, departure day is upon us. It seems like a lifetime ago when I enjoyed these trips. I push the melancholy feelings aside and refuse to give them a voice. Now is the time for my brave face.

I cross the room to the table, and bypass the teapot for the coffee decanter. Maxon pretends to be focused on the file he's reading, and doesn't look up as he jokes, "Rough night?"

Raising an eyebrow, I pour myself a cup and mix in cream and sugar until the color bears more of a resemblance to hot chocolate. I tap my spoon on my cup and reply in mock frustration, "Someone kept me up all night."

"Hmm. Didn't seem like you minded, love." I color a little, and he finally makes eye contact and flashes a smile at me. My blush makes him grin wider; I think he enjoys that I can still get a little bashful.

So, I sit and change the subject,  
"Where do you think we should go after Kent? I was thinking Columbia to see Kriss?"

"Either that or Sota. I know you're not as close to Bariel. That may be a good thing. Just don't save Carolina for last."

I take a long sip of coffee. Hopefully, despite our preparations to the contrary, this trip won't be that eventful. "Was the decision ever made about whether we are doing remotes from the provinces or sending footage back to Gavril for clips on the Report?"

"Both, sorry love. I was supposed to tell you. And, I'll do this week's with clips. So, you're off the proverbial hook." He reaches out his hand across the table and I take it in my own. I do find that a relief-Gavril always edits the clips in my favor.

I take a bite of muffin and try to exude quiet confidence. But Maxon knows me too well. Thankfully, other than a glance of concern, he says nothing about my nervousness and returns to his reading, rubbing circles with his thumb across the back of my hand. I find myself staring out the window, watching the dark sky lighten with swirls of color. Wordless.

Our companionable silence is interrupted by Mary's knock at the door. The clock on the bedside table confirms that she is punctual as always. At our signal, she enters, followed closely by Mia and Ruby. I nod at each of them, trying to smile warmly as they quickly curtsy, "Good morning." It's not their fault I'm on edge.

"Ladies, if you will excuse me," Maxon shrugs into his jacket and grabs his reading material. I stop him to adjust his tie. "I love you," he whispers as he kisses my cheek. "I'll be back before you leave."

I whisper an "I love you, too," and watch a little longingly as he exits into the common room. I turn to my morning helpers and stride toward my dressing area. "Okay, ladies, we've got some work to do!"

Before I could blink, I was dressed in my black suit again, this time wearing a red silk blouse and matching pumps. There's just something about a beautiful pair of red shoes to make me feel a little more confident. Mary had twisted my hair into a chignon that should make it until late this evening. I look professional and capable, but somehow the delicate floating pearls in my ears and around my neck soften anything that might be construed as edgy.

Mary dismisses Ruby and Mia, and asks if I need anything else.

"I think it may be time to ready Abrielle. But, I'm warning you that she is overly excited for this trip." It's really all she would talk about for the last two weeks. Cal was sick of her mentioning it, especially since he wasn't allowed to come along.

"I think she'll be begging for the next time before she even makes it back to the palace," laughs Mary. "But we'll manage. You've been busy lately, and as much as she adores her aunt, she loves her mother more."

I nod, keeping the tears that spring to my eyes at bay. It wasn't a reproach, just a reminder to be patient with my little girl. And one that I definitely need with my nerves twisted so tight. Before I can say anything else, the bedroom door springs open and Brie bounds in chased by May.

"Gotcha, little chicken," May exclaims, sweeping her charge up into her arms.

Brie crows happily from May's arms, "Mama! You're still here!" I hold out my arms and she practically leaps into them.

"Of course I am, baby. I'd never leave without you." I nuzzle my face into her damp strawberry blonde curls and move her to my hip. "Well, I know you had a bath. Did you eat breakfast?"

May laughs at that, "Too excited. We tried, though."

I show her the muffins left over from my breakfast and she giggles as she nibbles one, looking slyly at me and her aunt. May's eyes dance as she watches my daughter. How much she has given for my family. I wonder if she and Evan would be married with their own children if not for helping with our little ones. I realize again I couldn't do this trip-or any other parts of my job-without her. My exuberant hug surprises her, but she hugs me back, her ever-present smile directed at me, "What's that for?"

"Just because," I say. Wondering if there is another way I can thank her that she will accept. She tends to reject most of my attempts. Like me, she is nearly impossible to spoil because she doesn't really want anything. "Thank you for watching the boys while I'm gone."

"Ames, honestly, I may have to charge extra for the especially tall one. He doesn't do well when you're gone. Whines a lot. Pouts." She tries to wipe the grin from her face but fails miserably.

"I'll take that under advisement," I say breezily, and weep muffin crumbs off of Brie's chin. I notice Mary waiting in the background. Brie will be her charge for the trip, and though Mary has been around since long before she was born, Brie doesn't really interact with her for extended periods of time. Over the last two weeks, Mary has been helping Brie prepare for the day, all except for this morning. I turn my attention to a very excited four-year-old, "Would you like Miss Mary to do your hair?"

"Oh, yes, Mama! Like yours?" Her blue eyes shine with energy.

"Maybe not just like mine, but something beautiful, I'm sure." And Mary didn't disappoint. Twin French plaits tied with pale violet satin ribbons appeared as if by magic, taming Brie's wild-ish locks. She gingerly touched them as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Mary looks satisfied. "Thank you, Miss Mary."

"You're welcome, Princess. Are you ready to put on your dress?" Brie nods enthusiastically and Mary carefully slips it over her head. The dress is sleeveless, made from a lightweight fabric and requiring a light white long sleeve sweater. The high waist is accented by a flower instead of a sash, and it hits two inches below her knee. Netting underneath the skirt helps hold it stiff, but it shouldn't wrinkle or be uncomfortable for the plane ride. The color almost exactly matches her hair ribbons.

"Oh! A twirling dress!" Brie squeals as she sees it in the mirror and immediately begins to twist in circles.

I see Calix haunting the bedroom door, ready for school. At that moment his resemblance to Maxon makes me ache. His blonde hair flops over his brow, and he runs his fingers through it. I refuse to believe that he'll be nine soon. And then ten. And before we're ready, nineteen. While Mary and May fuss over Brie, I join my oldest by the door. "Morning, Cal." I pull him close. "Practice your declensions last night?" I resist straightening his hair.

"Of course, Mama. Why wouldn't I?" He hugs me quickly and takes a step back. He is quickly catching up to me in height.

I shoot him a fake-serious look and reply, "I don't know. Why wouldn't you? I know my son is appreciative of the education he is able to receive, and he would _never_ squander it." Cal squirms a little, and I make a mental note to follow up with May. I change the subject, "How did it go with Paige at the rifle range?"

He beams, "I got my first bullseye!"

"Way to go! You'll be as good as Daddy in no time." He stands a little straighter at that. "You know I'll miss you, right?" He nods. "We'll try to call every night, but we can't promise we'll be able to, okay?" He nods again and looks away. I hug him quickly, "But I'll think of you every night."

"Mama, I need to leave for school."

"Okay, say good-bye to your sister." I give him a look that says "Be nice." And I didn't need to worry. He complimented her dress, and even called her Princess Abrielle before he hugged her and told her he would miss her. Yes, definitely growing up.

Whines from the direction of the nursery catch my attention. I have no idea how Barrett and Griffin have slept through the chaos of the morning. Paige appears with one boy in each arm. Griffin is completely dressed and alert. So Griffin _didn't _sleep through all the noise. But, Barrett is rubbing at his eyes. Paige gives each a little pat and sets them down on the rug. Griffin toddles for Cal and Barrett looks around, like he is trying to wake up and can't quite figure out where his jammies went. He is definitely my child.

Just when I think the room can't get any louder, Maxon walks back in through the common room door. Every single one of them freezes, and then makes a bee-line for their father. Maxon barely makes it to the couch before he collapses under a bundle of arms and legs. So, that's how he'll go. Hugged to death.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: A short update-as I am rewarding myself with fun writing as I work on a project due at the end of next week. Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favs! I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story, because I am enjoying writing it. Your reviews make me want to write more, but I am a little behind in the project! Let me know what you think, and I hope to update in a couple of days. ****_Happy reading! SJ _**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: Here's your update. I can't believe you called me out in your story! :) Thank you for reading and commenting on every chapter. Keep sharing your evil plot bunnies! I appreciate your dedication to this story. I can't promise America will shoot anyone-cause she's disappointed she has to carry again, but I really like the idea that she is a good shot? I'm not sure why. Maybe because it's a way to combat the powerlessness they must feel cowering in those darn safe rooms. Anyway, looking forward to your response to this installment! :)**

**jthornestudent: I always appreciate your reviews! It's nice to know you are reading and enjoying my work. It's really motivating to write more when people are enjoying what you're creating. More interactions between America and Abrielle, headed your way soon... :)**

**Totalbooknerd13: I kinda love them, too. And can't you just see Maxon thrilled with the "pile-on-Daddy"? Thanks for your review! :)**

**prnamber3909: Thanks for sticking with me! Glad the last few lines could make you laugh. :)**

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**Anna: Thank you for stopping by. I am glad you are enjoying it! :)**

**oreocheesecakes: I heart the Schreave babies, too. (I guess that's a little obvious?) Thanks-I couldn't see them not interacting with their kids. Maxon was so lonely as a kid and America was so close to her family... And as to my writing, thanks. I was hoping so. Writing every day has been fun, so it is nice to know that I'm improving, too. :)**

**KieraCass rocks: Thanks so much! I appreciate you stopping by to read. :)**

* * *

Maxon settles Brie into the car and quickly kisses the top of her head. Then, he shuts the door as we take a moment for a private good-bye. Aspen is already at the airstrip with a small team, readying the plane. Georgia, Marlee, and Mary keep Abrielle company. Officer Riley and August are in the front seat of the car. They will return to the palace following airport detail. After the warmth of this morning, I hate to step into the black armored vehicle. This was really it. And, still, I feel like I'm missing something-forgetting something important.

This uneasiness has been following me around for the last two weeks.

I wrap my arms around Maxon's neck. To the casual observer, I am a caring wife giving her husband a sweet farewell. Instead, I whisper, "Maxon, we're missing something. I don't know what it is, but the pieces just aren't all falling into place for me yet."

"We'll figure it out, Ames. Maybe we don't have all the parts of the puzzle." He looks at me, and pulls me tightly to his chest. "Promise me, no unnecessary risks." As I nod he reminds me, "According to me, anything that puts you in harm's way is unnecessary."

Smiling, I reach up and place my lips against his own. "I love you. I'll call you when we land."

"I love you, too, America."

He helps me slip into the car, and closes the door behind me. Brie grabs my hand and releases a little squeal of excitement. Maxon takes a step back, and looking a bit lost, waves as we drive away. I try to memorize how his hair falls across his forehead, and how he clasps his hands behind his back as he turns to walk back inside. Alone.

I am awash with dread.

* * *

Brie chatters happily during the short drive to the air strip, and continues even as I fasten her into her seat between Mary and me. She loves flying, and is even more excited that she gets to do something her big brother wants to do, but isn't allowed to do. As we taxi and lift off, Mary entices her into a game of "I Spy" as I open my folder file. I have to re-read my notes on the activities for Kent and narrow down our next stop. Marlee joins in the game, and soon Georgia does, too. I smile to myself, even as I make note of names, places, and schedules. We'll visit the school and attend a small reception at town hall. It looks like Marlee will have time to visit with her parents. As a farming province, Kent had its share of all castes, but was not particularly heavy with twos. When Marlee's caning was televised across the kingdom, the province had threatened to withhold commodities from the King. Maxon is credited with deescalating the tension created and preventing a mass downgrade of caste status. The province governance understands the symbiotic relationship shared with wealthier citizenry and the workers that provide essential services. And, Marlee is still the darling of Kent.

I lean my seat back a bit, and run my hand over my temple and across my forehead. _And then where to? _I open my eyes when I hear someone slip into the empty seat beside me.

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes, Commander Leger."

"Kent is prepared."

"Thank you," I return to my notes.

"And if I may ask," Aspen begins, and I cut him off.

"I don't know. Perhaps you can advise me?" One of the benefits to knowing Aspen as long as we have is the ability to communicate with few words. I show him the briefs I have in front of me, and cock my head to the side.

"As much as I hate to say it, I think Sota it is." From his tone, and the overview he provided in my notes, I know that Sota is not as secure as Columbia.

"That's what Maxon said this morning," I say, keeping my voice low, so as not to be overheard. "I see they are planning a large reception—and they had a higher concentration of twos. Almost as many as Clermont."

"Our military presence is pronounced on a normal day, but with the tour I think you'll see a marked difference. You should notice my plainclothes agents in addition to uniformed enlisted. Unfortunately, we won't stay overnight in Kent." I feel a pang at this statement, because I know Marlee doesn't have many chances to go home. We'll travel after the reception, and everyone will sleep on the plane. "When we get to the base in Sota, there will be secure quarters to prepare for the day."

Everyone seems to be occupied with their own tasks. Abrielle has fallen asleep against Mary's arm, and Mary herself dozes. Georgia and Marlee are looking at the education project folders, and organizing their administrator questions. Members of Aspen's team are around the cabin, some sitting starkly at attention, others more casual but exuding alertness.

Restlessness kicks in. I try and will the plane to move faster. The sooner I get there, the sooner I'll be home.

* * *

The stop in Kent was uneventful, as we had hoped. Marlee was greeted to cheers and whoops and spent a good amount of time signing autographs. Abrielle was ecstatic when a little girl about Cal's age asked to take a picture with a real, live princess. The school was simple but purposeful, and the students were performing well. The administrators could not contain their pride. Influential individuals all pledged their continued support of the monarchy in discrete and proper ways during the reception. I explained everything to Maxon over the phone on our way to Sota, preparing myself mentally for a different greeting. Abrielle shared her adventures for the day, including eating an ice cream cup in the school cafeteria with a tiny wooden spoon. Calix bragged about his ever-increasing rifle skills. Even the little boys had babbled into the receiver. By the time I had finished my update and we said our "I love yous," it was a little past midnight. The lights had been dimmed in the cabin, and Aspen, the guards, and I were the only ones still awake. He nods at me in a small salute, firm and steady no matter the circumstances. I remove my jacket and shoes and grab the blanket Marlee had handed me earlier. I spare a glance at my sleeping daughter, curled into her fully reclined seat with a navy blue travel blanket across her body. My heart swells and a smile plays across my lips. Her energy and enthusiasm had fueled me all day. Watching her rest reminds me why I am touring in the first place: for the safety and security of all the children of Illea.

I lean my chair back and close my eyes, and sincerely hope for all our sakes that the next school serves ice cream as dessert, too.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N**: **So, I had 45 minutes of downtime today when I was waiting to pick someone up from the airport. So, it is short, but important and necessary to continue the arc. :) Let me know what you think, and happy reading! ****_SJ_**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: Thanks for reviewing! Maybe this chapter adds enough angst? :)**

**Princess Grace: Glad you enjoyed it. :)**

**Selection Fan: Awww, thanks so much. That's what I am going for...hopefully, it turns out. :)**

**sushi: Apparently, I can't be depended on not to write. ;) It is just such a great break! Thanks for your kind words. I am glad you are enjoying it-and I don't plan to leave y'all without a complete story. :)**

**Totalbooknerd13: Thanks! :)**

* * *

The jolt from the touch down shakes me out of my dream, which is a relief. My dreams provide no solace right now. I pass my hand over my eyes and glance around the cabin. Again, everyone continues to doze except for Aspen, the on-duty guard, and me. Aspen whispers into his phone, likely giving orders to the ground crew and triple-checking the security detail.

Sota will not be as welcoming as Kent. Bariel was released early in the competition, before I got to know anything more about her than she and Celeste had a strange alliance. It was almost as if they had targeted each other as the one to beat, so they kept each other close. From my notes, I learned that Bariel married the Mayor of Sota who she met during a three-year stint in France. She has two children, nine and seven, both boys. And, she seems to occupy her time with traveling all over the world. Sota's larger concentration of past twos is also a concern.

A few hours later, we arrive at the town hall, a beautiful building that reflects the style of the palace in Angeles. Bariel waits on the front step to greet our entourage, flanked by what can only be her sons. They are tall and light-complected, with white blonde hair matching her own. Gabriel's remote camera personnel are rolling to capture our greeting. She curtsies properly as her sons bow, "A pleasure to have you visit our province, Queen America."

I return the smile, guarding my eyes from showing my wariness, "Thank you for having us, Lady Bariel. A pleasure to see you, again."

"My husband sends his regrets, as he had an urgent issue arise this morning that only he can attend to. I'm sure you understand."

I allow a polite, guarded laugh to escape my lips, "Indeed I do." We pose for the cameras alone, then with all the children. To everyone else, I am sure we look like old friends. I scan the crowd that gathers. Some are holding signs. Quite a few seem to be favoring the sign, "Rest in Peace, King Clarkson." Quite a sentiment. A smattering of on-lookers hold "Long live, King Maxon!" posters. Less than a handful share "Welcome, Queen America" banners. I smile and wave demurely at the crowd, then lead Abrielle into the building behind Bariel. The reception was chillier than I had warranted; I am sure the Honorable Mayor wants to make sure my name is not associated with his. I catch Aspen's eye—he is muttering into his ear piece and the nod he offers into return is almost imperceptible. His face is stony and his eyes look hard.

During the school tour, Abrielle chatters happily with Mary and is enamored with the art classroom. The teacher invites her to paint with the other children, which she readily accepts. Bariel's sons both decline, and step to the side. The younger one looks a little longingly at the easel, and the older one puts a hand, in what I perceive as a warning, on his shoulder. Their faces remain in politely composed. Bariel tilts her head toward mine and says conspiratorially, "It's good of you to allow her to fraternize with the class."

I raise an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

She sounds surprised as she continues, "Well, I prefer my children to be around our kind of people. Some of these children come from less _refined_ homes." Disdain drips from her voice as she whispers the last few words. "That's why Devon and Michael are privately tutored in our home, along with a few other select students. We feel that removing them from that _element_ while they are receiving their schooling is important."

"Oh, well Calix is schooled in conjunction with all the palace children. As we feel it is important for him to associate with and appreciate those who he will one day rule," I quietly control the rage I feel boiling through my blood, and maintain a look of calm.

Bariel sniffs, trying to find the insult within my statements. "You haven't changed a bit," she finally says, pointedly. "We should probably move along. We wouldn't want to keep these _students_ from their learning." Her tone reveals that she could care less that the children were learning anything. She smiles broadly at the teacher. Mary helps Abrielle remove her smock and my little one thanks the teacher without prompting, and offers her the picture she created. The teacher curtsies back, and prompts the class in a "Good bye, Princess Abrielle. Thank you for visiting us."

The day marches on as Mary, Brie, and Georgia return to the plane with two of Aspen's guards and Marlee and I return to town hall with our security detail. We have meetings still to conduct, and then a large reception in my honor this evening.

Very late that afternoon, as Marlee and I prepare to change into our evening wear, I join Bariel in her office to thank her for her hospitality. I am feeling discouraged, as I am no closer to bringing Bariel or Sota onto our side. And, I have been kept so busy, I haven't had a chance to overhear anything. I would have nothing to share with Maxon in our nightly update. As I enter Bariel's office, I almost trip on a leather overnight bag waiting by her door. I laugh quietly at myself, and she raises an eyebrow, surprised that I am unembarrassed. Trying to make conversation, I nod to the bag, "Are you coming back from a trip or leaving on one?"

"I just returned from Bonita," she smiles thinly, obviously irritated and trying to hide it. This day has been as miserable for her as it has been for me, and she did not pretend otherwise. "And I am heading to France. We are lucky enough to have a vacation home there. With the pressures of this life, it is nice to have a place to go where we are anonymous."

I feel a pang of jealousy that she can be anonymous anywhere, "That does sound nice." I excuse myself to change when Marlee appears at the door, her face pinched.

Marlee is uncharacteristically quiet in the hallway, and holds her hands stiffly in front of her. She walks pointedly in the opposite direction of our ladies changing room, and shakes her head slightly as I begin to ask where we are heading. She slows near a door that adjoins what is probably the Mayor's office, and I hear a familiar voice. I stop short in surprise. Just as the door slams shut, I see him. Didasko.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:**

**Thanks for sticking with me everyone. I think I don't say it enough, I really appreciate the reads, reviews, favorites, and follows. I hope you're still enjoying the story! :) -SJ**

**Totalbooknerd13: I know...*cue suspenseful music* :)**

**prnamber3909: Previous education advisor-and one of the heads of the Loyalist movement. :)**

**oreocheesecakes: Thanks, I hope you like this one, too. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Rage. I am brimming with rage as I knock strongly on the closed door. I'm sure my hair and face are mirrors of each other. I hear the conversation come to an abrupt halt. What is Didasko doing in this building? Aspen's team had last seen him in Clermont, working on that province's education committee. After all, it is where he is from and we did not widely advertise why he was released from service. I knock again, and spare a glance at Marlee. The look on her face reflects horror. Suddenly, I am not sure what I will do if someone actually answers the door. But I will not back away now.

The door cracks open and the attaché to the Mayor appears in the hallway. Before the door shuts behind him, I glimpse the Mayor sitting at a desk, reviewing a file and pretending not to notice the interruption. The room appears otherwise empty. "Yes, Your Majesty? May I be of service?"

"Oh, I do hope so!" I coo. "With all the excitement of the day, my assistant and I have gotten horribly turned around. Could you please point us in the direction of the ladies changing area? I would so appreciate the help."

He bows, "Of course." I take the arm he offers and chatter with him down the hallway. As we arrive at the changing room, I thank him and add, "I do so hope to see his Honor the Mayor at the reception this evening. It is not every day I am able to visit your beautiful province. Hopefully, the issue from this morning is resolved satisfactorily?"

The man bows again, but understands that my statements may sound like questions, but are actually orders. "Of course, Your Majesty. I am sure he would not miss the opportunity for the world." His glare is not lost on me.

"I am so glad to hear it," I say as he bows and turns to return to his work. Marlee and I watch him walk away. When we are sure he is gone, we enter the changing room to see Aspen pacing the floor. I close the door, and take a seat on the couch. Marlee follows suit. "I assume this has something to do with the fact that I just saw Didasko in the Mayor's office?"

He turns to face me, "One of the plain clothes teams thought they spotted him earlier in the day. We had no confirmation, Mer. You're sure?"

Marlee piped up, "I spent several months denying him access to America, Aspen. We're sure it is him." She explains how she saw him and then we saw him together. Then we all went silent. We all knew what his presence meant without having to say anything more. The Loyalists were actively recruiting, and Sota had been a ripe target. We had found the second leaders of the Loyalist movement, and they were a former Selection contestant and her husband. I couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"Has the mayor left his office suite at all?" I ask, curious.

Aspen shakes his head, "No, we've had eyes here all day. Aides and advisors have come in and out, but the mayor seems to be sticking to his office."

"Well, he will be leaving for the reception."

Marlee laughs quietly, "Yes, I do think you're right." We exchange a look. "America made it quite clear that she expects to see him there."

"That should give your team an opportunity?"

He nods, and I can see him already planning how he was going to gain access without drawing attention. But, he takes a second to admonish me, "Mer, Maxon is going to be irritated when he finds out you pounded on a door with Didasko on the other side."

"Only if you tell him, Aspen. Only if you tell him."

He smiles wryly and heads for the door. "Get dressed, Your Majesty. We both have work to do."

A little over an hour later, Marlee and I are awash in the intricate politics of small talk at a state function. I feel the tension in my body and work to keep visual confirmation of my thin temper from my face. Polite conversation is irksome when you have it on good authority that three-quarters of the room would prefer you dead, and most of the other quarter wishes you would just go away. Much to Brie's chagrin, we had already sent her back with Mary to get ready for bed, as well as an overnight flight. I was wishing I could do the same.

Georgia walks across the marble floor and whispers in my ear, "The team is having a little difficulty. Do you think you could manage a bit of a distraction?" I nod. "Good. Swooning would probably do it."

"It's not that far from the truth," I whisper back, my lips barely moving. "The skirts of this gown weigh a ton, and I'm suddenly not feeling so well." I begin to fan myself, as I begin to move to another spot in the room. I ask Marlee for a glass of water in an audible tone, and directly in the middle of the reception, when I am sure I have everyone's attention, I fake an attempt to grasp Georgia's arm and instead crumple to the floor.

I open my eyes to see Bariel and her husband looking worriedly down at me, and most of the rest of the reception creating a circle around them. A contingent of guards, both provincial and my personal palace team were rushing in the door, responding to a ringing alarm. No matter how they actually feel about me, no one wants the collapse of the queen on their shoulders. With Marlee and Georgia's assistance, I gingerly sit and then stand, feigning dizziness. I see Aspen appear in the doorway. "Your Majesty, the doctor is on his way," Bariel says, even paler than usual.

I paste a weak smile across my face, "Nonsense, Lady Bariel, I would hate to cause any more disruption to this lovely affair. But, perhaps I will take that as a sign to excuse myself." As I pass through the doorway, Aspen joins my contingent. He takes my arm, and squeezes it a little in the guise of support. They got what they needed. Good. Because the pictures would be all over the world in the next twelve hours and Nicoletta would never let me live this down.

Back on the plane, and in much more appropriate travel clothing, I settle into my seat. Brie is once again sleeping, and I sigh a little to myself. I have had a little more time with her, but not as much as I had hoped. Aspen has Maxon on the line, so he sits in the spare seat beside me. I hear snatches of conversation while I go through my province file. We still hadn't given the pilot instructions on where to next. My attention is drawn to the brief on Bonita, a province that is deeply divided. In King Clarkson's time, hundreds of Northern rebel supporters had been downgraded there. In addition, Southern rebel mercenaries had previously called the province home. Despite the eradication of the Southern rebels, tensions tend to run high there, and the Northern allies still train there. Aspen passes me the phone and I confirm that I had seen Didasko. I relay my conversation with Bariel, and we decide together that Bonita is our next stop. Aspen takes my cue to direct the pilot. We taxi down the runway as I end the call. Our good-bye is bittersweet. _Only nineteen more nights of this_, I sigh to myself, and lean back in my seat to rest.

Aspen is soon shaking me awake. We cannot possibly be in Bonita yet. Marlee and Georgia are upright and alert, and my watch says I have only been asleep for an hour. "What's wrong?"

"It's Bonita, Mer."

"Our command center has been destroyed." Georgia has tears in her eyes, and she cannot contain them. "Everyone, America. They are all dead."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:**

**Thanks for continuing to read-and putting up with a little longer time between chapters. This chapter has been my breaks over the last few days, so you can see how hard I've been working on school stuff. (It's another short one.) Hope it was worth a little wait! **

**oreocheesecakes: Sometimes, the cliffhanger is a perfect place to break and get back to the "real" work I have to do. Glad you're enjoying it! :)**

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**luv2read4reading: I know! Argh. :)**

**jthornestudent: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Glad you're still enjoying it! :)**

**waterpolo3: Thanks for the review. I appreciate it. Hopefully, the ages will be more clear over the next few chapters, but they have been married a little over 15 years now. Calix and Abrielle are approaching 9 and 5, and the little boys are about 18 months old. Thanks again! :)**

**The Selection Fangirl: I'm glad you like it. :)**

**Now, on with the story...SJ**

* * *

I am completely awake. Georgia covers her face in her hands, and Marlee wraps her in a hug. Marlee's ability to comfort is one of my favorite things about her. How many times she has done the exact thing for me. I stand and move to the rear of the cabin; Aspen follows without a word. Strangely calm, I ask, "How?"

"Details are still coming in, but the command center operates outside of town a good distance. Locals think it is a warehouse for obvious reasons. It burned at a high heat and an accelerated pace. By the time the fire patrol arrived, the ceiling was buckling inward."

"Where were the guards? Why didn't they raise the alarm?"

"Mer, we can't find any of them," his face is ashen. "And the outside doors were chained closed," he didn't have to continue.

"They were lured inside or caused the fire," I finish for him. My stomach turns as I internalize this new information. I almost can't bring myself to ask the next question "Numbers?"

"At least twenty-three-alliance members and guards. We won't know for sure until the debris cools."

I turn aside, to compose myself. I will have time to mourn later. "We can't go to Bonita. Even if we didn't know who did this, we would be too much of a distraction. It takes too much manpower for the security details and clean-up."

"Clermont or Carolina?"

_Carolina_, my heart aches, even though I hadn't thought of Carolina as home since the Selection. And I allow myself some selfish comfort. "Carolina."

Relief is clear on his face. Security isn't as big of an issue, plus I will make sure he is rewarded with a visit from his family. "I'll tell the pilot," he hands me a phone, "You call your husband."

"Ames?" Maxon's voice is tight with tension, and I can hear Stavros, Carter, and August arguing about something in the background. And who else? Oh. Gavril. We will definitely need his help as we decide our next steps and what we need the public to hear. "Love, it's so good to hear your voice."

"Same here. I'm guessing Carolina was your suggestion?" It _is_ comforting to hear him—I can picture how he is perched against the edge of his desk, one hand to his ear and the other stuffed into his pocket. I'm sure he has abandoned his jacket and tie, rolled his sleeves up, and ruined his neatly combed hair. There's probably even scruff across his jaw.

"Actually, my suggestion was that you immediately turn that plane around and come home. However, an end to your tour will draw more attention to Bonita. Right now, it's being reported as an unfortunate accident due to some improperly stored incendiary materials. As far as anyone knows, the only casualty was a lone night watchman."

I change the subject. "Have you gotten the footage of my fainting spell?"

"You made that look very real, love. Refuse alcohol at the next stop, and we will start a royal rumor. I plan to call your mother and Kenna to warn them before they see the footage on the _Report_."

Mom. We see her sporadically due to our schedules, and almost never go to her. Mom will want to come and visit soon, and the footage gives a natural reason for an extended stay. And that solves the problem I discussed with May about a month ago. If Mom came to visit with Kenna, James, and Astra, we could make sure they are protected. "Maxon, when you call, will you please invite them for an extended stay?"

I hear a heavy sigh, and then, "Whatever you'd like."

"If you have trouble convincing them, mention how close Calix and Abrielle's birthdays are, and how we've been too busy to plan their party. And, it is true. I haven't done any planning yet."

"Okay, America. Anything other chores I need to do?" He makes an attempt to tease, but I can hear the men in the background getting louder.

"No, but I have something for you to run by the team. I'd like to go to Carolina and then Clermont. After those two stops, let's take a brief break so I can bring Abrielle home."

"I thought she was behaving?"

"She's being fabulous, but—" I wonder if he is going to make me say that I am too concerned to have her continue to travel with me.

His voice softens as he understands my pause, "I'll check with the team. Speaking of, I really need to go. It's going to come to blows in here. I love you."

My voice catches in my throat, "I love you, too."

* * *

Carolina is sunny and bright, and warm for spring. The weather doesn't really match my mood, but it does welcome me to my home province. It seems like the whole area turns out for my arrival, and the school is practically a model for Kriss' education vision. At the reception, I am surrounded by friendly faces and allow Abrielle to stay for the entire party, a special treat since we decide to stay overnight.

The next morning, Georgia, Marlee, Mary, and I take Abrielle to see the house where I grew up. We all manage to convince Aspen to visit his family, and I sense an opportunity to shed some formality and truly relax for the first time in weeks. I instruct the guards to stay with the car. As the rest of us stand in front of the house on the sidewalk, I notice how shabby the little house is getting, but even in its current state, it looks cared for. The flower beds in front are weeded, though the black paint on the front door is fading and peeling in spots. I can almost picture Mom and Kenna in the kitchen with Gerad trying to sneak out into the yard to play soccer. May, Kota and Dad creating in the garage turned studio… I touch the tarnished door knob and remember carrying Kota's belongings out into a friend's truck. He only had a few boxes, but it seemed so exciting to me. Going off on your own to make your fortune. I didn't know that Kota meant to be separate from us in all ways possible.

I look down and take Abrielle's hand. It's been over fifteen years since I last set foot here. She smiles up at me, and I give her a little squeeze. "Ready to go inside?"

She nods, "Yes, Mama! I want to see your room!"

"When Mama was your age, this is where she lived. With Grandma, Uncle Gerad, Aunt Kenna, and Aunt May…"

"And Astra and Uncle James and Daddy?"

"No sweetie, Astra wasn't born yet. Uncle James and Aunt Kenna met when they were grownups, and Mama hadn't met Daddy, either."

The relaxed atmosphere spread to Marlee and Mary. Even Georgia's sadness and anger is mitigated by the exchange and Abrielle bounding across the porch and into the house. Everything but the piano and remained as it was before. A little older, and a little worn. But, still in usable condition. The piano is at the new house in Angeles, because of the sentimental value. On the rare occasion that I visit Mom, I still play it. This room is where I practiced my scales. Where I watched _The Report_ each week. Where I found out I was a member of the Selected. Where I mourned Dad's passing. Where I called Kota's bluff. Where I was sure I was ready to love Maxon. This room means so much to be so physically small.

I catch up with Brie on the stairs and show her the room that used to be mine. "Mama, this is smaller than my closet!"

"I know, Brie. You know how we tell you what a lucky girl you are. This is how a lot of people in Illea live, and many more people share a room this size." I'd given her something to think about. "There's one more place I'd like to show you before we go. You ready?" She nods and I lead the group downstairs and out to the garage studio. I stand with my back to the studio and open the door saying, "And this is where Aunt May and my dad created their art." Georgia, Marlee, and Mary stop short. I look questioningly at the group, and turn into the room.

"Kota?" I gasp.

He shrugs, "Hi, Sis. It's been awhile."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading, whether you review or not, I hope you are enjoying it! Still finishing up a school project, so it might be a couple days until the next update. :) **

**The Devil Wears Westwood: I know-they have to miss each other, right. Thanks! :)**

**kingofsuummer01: Thank you so much for your review. It really means a lot. What an amazing compliment-I appreciate it so much. I really wanted to make the continuation. Thank you for reading! And, about ****_The Queen_****, I LOVE that idea. Ooo, I hope Kiera Cass has the same one.**

**prnamber3909: Maybe, maybe not. Thanks for reading!**

**Maxon's Rose: As you know by now, Maxon's okay. :) Here's your update.**

**The Selection Fangirl: Thank you for sticking with me! :)**

**Dondon33: Hope you continue to enjoy the story!**

**jthornestudent: Well, you have part of the answer to your question. Thanks for reading! :)**

**waterpolo3: Thanks. Kota will be around for awhile. :)**

**Selection Fan: I heart the name Abrielle, too. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I am glad you're enjoying it! :)**

**And the story continues... SJ**

* * *

I resist my original impulse, which is to tell him to get the hell out of this house. Then I remember this house is technically _his_, and I am the one intruding. I stand a little in front of Abrielle, and see Georgia, Marlee, and Mary shift their bodies in unobtrusive ways to take more defensive stances. Except for occasional calls back to Mom, the family had lost track of Kota. While I guess we could have used royal resources to track him down, I was never that interested. Not after the way he talked about Dad. Not after the way he talked to me before the end of the Selection. How could kids from the same parents grow up so differently? What twisted in Kota that made his caste and his success more important than his family? I occasionally caught glimpses of him in provincial newspapers on the society pages. And that had been enough for me.

Without even being asked, Mary ushers Abrielle out of the garage, under hushed protest. I know without a doubt she is taking my little girl to the relative safety of the car. And, within minutes, an additional guard will join us in the garage. I glance around the garage and begin to notice that the studio is rearranged. A hastily made bed is in one corner. A diminutive sculpture sits on top of a modest dresser beside the bed. The door to the little bathroom is open, and it looks like it is in active use. The small corner shower door is wet, and there are some towels on the floor. Canvases lean against the walls, both empty and full. There are tools for sculpting, but no actual sculptures. I don't even see any raw materials. Not a bit of clay or rock. I am still taking this all in when Kota speaks again.

"Abrielle is really growing up, isn't she?"

I can feel a flush of anger creeping up my neck and I try valiantly to keep it from my voice, "Interesting statement from someone who has never met his niece." I look directly at him, and watch as his shoulders slump a little.

"I know, America. I know I don't deserve to make a statement about anything. I don't even deserve to be here right now. But, I was hoping you would come to the house when I heard you were in town. I was hoping," he looks at me shamefaced, "That we would have a chance to talk."

A guard appears at the door, "Your Majesty, is everything all right?" I look from the guard to Kota, weighing my decision. Maxon and Aspen would give me a rough time if I totally dismiss him.

I nod to the guard, "You may wait in the hall." He bows, and takes position outside the door.

"Can we," Kota swallows hard, and looks at me, "Can we have some privacy?" He looks at Marlee and Georgia, and then back at me. It wasn't an order; it was a true question. I see both women stiffen, even as they look to me for an answer.

"I don't think so," I cock my head at him, and cross my arms across my chest. "Anything you need to say to me, you may say in front of my assistants. They are like family to me." He lowers his eyes and nods his head, and I know the word "family" had the effect I intended it to. More than seventeen years of being ignored by your older brother takes a toll.

And so, he begins to speak. He shares with me how after Dad's funeral and our argument that he planned never to set foot in this house again. He admits that he didn't even watch the televised version of our wedding. But, because he is my brother his work load exploded. He became quite wealthy and spent most of his time socializing with twos. They would come from around Illea to commission pieces, and he had the fame and life he thought he deserved. It was a full year before he called Mom and gave her his number, but he watches the _Report _every week. He said this part hopefully, but everyone watches the _Report._ Gavril is still the only reporter with direct access to us, as the royal family.

I shrug a little, "So, why are you telling me this, then? Go live the life you've always wanted." I didn't try to keep the frustration out of my voice.

"I'm getting there, America. I know I was an ass. But, don't worry, I've had my come-uppance." I just raise an eyebrow as he continues, "And, I've lost everything." His eyes look misty with tears, but they don't fall. He stares at the ground and then abruptly turns from me. "So, I came here, try and paint a bit, and live with the ghosts." He crosses to a table that holds an electric kettle and struggles to plug it in with his left hand. He sets out four mugs and adds a tea bag to each.

For the first time, I notice his hair is peppered with gray and is curling over his collar. His button-down is open and his undershirt is not tucked into his worn jeans. He looks almost as weathered as his clothing.

He turns back to me, "I don't expect you to forgive me, Ames. I know there is no way to make up for what I did." Emotion creeps into his voice and his eyes look so much like Dad's. And Calix's. "I just want you to know that I'm proud of you, Sis. Now that I've got nothing that I used to value, I know what I gave up." He picks up the kettle with his left hand and begins to pour, but as it wobbles he pulls his right hand, his dominant hand, his sculpting hand out of his pocket to steady the carafe. His hand. Suddenly the messy bed and open shirt make sense. His hand is horribly limp and obviously minimally functional. Kota's hands are the key to his art, his livelihood. He really did lose everything.

My voice is barely above a whisper when I ask, "What happened to your hand?"

He snorts ruefully, "Let's just say I was with the wrong woman at the very wrong time." He shakes his head at himself.

"You can't sculpt."

"No, but I am relearning how to paint with my left hand. It's slow going, but I'll get there."

I close my eyes briefly and try not to sigh. I know what I have to do, but I really don't want to do it. Dad would want me to take care of Kota, even though I can barely stand to look at him. I can't leave him here to subsist. Marlee is wearing a look of concern on her face as she turns to me, and Georgia shakes her head no imperceptibly. They both know what I'm going to say. "You can't stay here like this alone."

"I can. It's what I've been doing, America."

"Does Mom know about your hand?" I ask, knowing she doesn't or I would have heard about it long before this morning. How could he tell her without also sharing how he got the injury in the first place?

"Oh, America. You wouldn't."

I nod. I most certainly would. We were squaring off with our bodies. "There's a hospital in Angeles that specializes in delicate and complicated situations. They rehabilitate people with lingering war injuries and have success with the most difficult cases. They wouldn't be able to bring your hand back, but they would help you learn to live with it better."

"I'm not going with you, America. That's not why I wanted to see you. I needed to clear my conscience and make amends. But, if I go with you, I'd have to face my guilt every day. I'm not strong enough for that."

"I'm not asking you to move in to the palace, Kota. I'm not even asking you to stay in Angeles. What I am going to do, however, is make sure you and your injury are well cared for. I need to know you are in the best condition you can be in before you come back home. You're my brother Kota, and I don't like you or trust you. But I am going to help you."

"I didn't ask for your help," his brow furrows and his voice has an angry edge.

I allow some of my frustration to spill through my façade, "And I didn't ask if you wanted it. This one's for Dad." I look directly into his face, my eyes flashing, daring him to disagree or argue. "You owe him."

Kota holds his hands up in surrender and sighs, "Fine. When do we leave?"


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:**

**Thank you for continuing to read! Here's a longer chapter to make up for the wait. :) -SJ**

The Devil Wears Westwood: Here's your update. :)

jthornestudent: Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Thanks for reading! :)

Selection Fan: Glad you're still enjoying it. I am, too! :)

* * *

Aspen seems more annoyed that we are running behind schedule than concerned when we appear at the air strip with an extra passenger. The grudge against Kota is my own, and I will have to put it to the side for now. "The Queen is always on time, Commander Leger. Everyone else is just early," I remind him. I can't help poking at him a little, because I am barely camouflaging my own irritation. With the attack in Bonita and my tour, I know our resources are stretched too thin to send Kota to Angeles alone, and I don't want to send him on a commercial plane.

As we settle in to our seats, I hear Abrielle chatting away to her long-lost uncle. Now she has another experience for Calix to be jealous of—meeting Kota first. I head to the back of the cabin to call Maxon, and Marlee follows me. We turn our backs to the others, and my air of formality dissipates quickly.

"Are you okay, America?"

"I will be," I sigh. "I did the right thing?" I needed confirmation that leaving Kota there is something a good sister wouldn't do, royal or not.

"If it is what you think you need to do." She continues, "Remember, I'm an only child, and I only have to look out for myself." She half-smiles when I do the same. "I know this is hard for you after how he behaved. I know you truly looked up to him and you have a right to be angry after the way he treated your family, especially your poor mom when your dad died. Maybe some good will come out of it?" We look back and see Brie giggling as Kota shares a story.

"Maybe so. I'm going to call Maxon," I nod back toward the cabin. Marlee takes the cue and turns toward her seat. "I'll see if Carter is available, too. So you won't have to wait until tonight, either." She flashes her bright smile over her shoulder as I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial.

Maxon's voice is clear as our call connects, so his exasperation shines through, "Hello?"

"What a reception for a phone call from your wife," I chide him quietly. My ire is up today, and I will have to contain it to keep from spawning an argument.

"Oh, hi, America. Sorry, love. I have been arguing with Daphne for the last hour and a half. I thought she had called back."

Teasing this time, I say, "Lover's quarrel?" And, I am rewarded with a small guffaw from the other end of the line.

Daphne's temper always runs high, and it has become a running joke with us that she once was deeply in love with Maxon. However, he had so little experience with women at the time that he had no idea. France is one of our allies all the way back to the days before Illea, and while that is helpful on a world stage, sometimes the long history wears on us personally. For instance, Daphne has Maxon's personal number. And she calls it regularly enough to almost become a nuisance. "Actually, she is currently disappointed that France's importance in the world seems to be declining. I'm not quite sure what she wants me to do, but she is quite passionate about the discussion."

"Maybe she's just upset about the fact the King of Illea no longer flies to France once a month?" King Clarkson took frequent trips, but we try to show equal attention to our allies and political friendships.

"She did mention something about unrequited love." It's good to hear him laugh, even if it can't be in person. "Not that I am not enjoying our conversation, Ames, but did you need something other than to hear your darling husband's voice?"

"I wanted to let you know that I found something at my parent's house."

"Go on."

It all comes out in a rush. "Kota. I found Kota when I went to visit the house. And, I'm bringing him back with me. Don't tell anyone, yet, or you won't get a moment's piece. His right hand is practically destroyed, and I want to register him at Angeles Memorial for rehabilitation."

"Right. Am I correct in assuming this is one of those brother/sister things that I won't fully understand?"

"Possibly."

"Then whatever you feel you need to do, I support you. You know that."

"Thanks, I need to hear that right now. Especially since I am resisting my impulse to throw him off this plane while we're airborne."

"Is he that bad?"

"No, he's being wonderful. Brie is giggling with him right now. I'm just jealous that I could have had my older brother in my life all this time, but I wasn't important enough to him."

"Will it help if I tell you that I love you?"

I'm smiling now as I say, "Marginally."

"How about if I tell you that you're coming home for after Clermont?"

"Now that is good news. I know I've only been gone a few days, but I am more than ready. News coming in from Bonita tomorrow?"

He pretends I didn't ask the question. So that is probably a yes. "And, your mother, Kenna, James, and Astra are here. Gerad is busy being in his early twenties at University. He declined my offer to come visit."

"I think I might owe you one."

He chuckles, "I have a few ideas of how you can pay me back."

I try and keep the flush out of my cheeks, "Hmmm. Marlee would like to talk to Carter. Is he close?"

"Actually, he just walked into the room. We have a meeting in a few minutes. I'll see you soon."

"See you soon." Marlee's smile floods her face as I pass the phone to her and take my seat next to Brie. She and Kota and Mary are playing a simple card game, and I pull out my Clermont folder. We'll be arriving just in time for me to visit the school. Unfortunately, it will be very close to the end of the school day. If our timing is off by even a little, we'll have to stay the night. But if we work straight through to the reception, we can sleep on the way home. _Home._

We touch down and rush to the waiting car, all but ignoring the small crowd and leaving Kota on the plane with the usual guard, and race through town to the school. I try not to let my impatience for home to show through to the children, and allow Abrielle to participate in story time in a kindergarten classroom. She beams the entire time, and I am glad that I do. Marlee and Georgia make a valiant effort to conduct the administrative interviews at a normal pace, though we practically have to sprint to the town hall to change for the reception. Mary's fingers are flying as she puts the finishing touches on our hair, and sweeps on light coats of fresh makeup. I finally stop to take a breath to look around the room. The changing area is almost as big as my common room, and impeccably decorated. Mirrors lean against one wall, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection. A forest green evening gown accentuates my figure without drawing attention to any possible imperfections, and my upswept hair balances Mary's overall picture. I turn to Abrielle, her hair in matching twisted knots above her ears. The green chiffon dress was as perfect as I thought it would be, and she shines in it, eager to attend the event.

A knock at the door reveals our guards, ready to escort us down the hall. I inhale deeply to slow my breathing and my heart. If everything goes well, I will be waking up in my own bed in the morning. The smile across my face is real, and I allow myself to relax. I take Brie's hand, and guide her into the room as we are announced. Only a few more hours. I can withstand almost anything for a few hours. I make sure my smile is calm and composed. After the first hour, Abrielle's eyes start to droop. I send her back to the plane with Mary and a small guard, keeping Georgia, Aspen, and Marlee with me. She is too tired to disagree.

I make small talk with business owners and provincial politicians, though I allow my eyes to occasionally wander around the room. Finally, I catch the eye of Mr. and Mrs. Newsome. Celeste's mother and father have become strangely dear to me, as I spent time with them after the funeral. I always visit them when in Clermont. Mr. Newsome seems to take a circuitous route to leave the ballroom via a door very close to me, and curiously, Mrs. Newsome heads in the other direction. I think I catch him nod at me, though he could have been focusing on where he intends to go. Within minutes, the ensemble begins to play, and Mr. Newsome reenters near me.

"Your Majesty," Mr. Newsome bows. I can't help but call him "mister." Calling him by his first name seems too informal, as he is the parent of one of my friends. "May I have this dance?"

I curtsey in reply, and allow him to lead me onto the floor. "Please, tell me what's wrong," I look into his face, and can see the worry. He looks pale despite his darker complexion, and there are pronounced lines around his mouth and etched into his forehead. I keep my face composed, and look around the room as we make our way across the floor.

"I am risking everything to talk to you tonight."

His words ring true, and I lean in as he lowers his voice even more. "They're closer than you think, and this is even bigger than you imagined." A sheen of sweat covers Newsome's forehead, and he swallows hard as he continues, "Celeste's death wasn't an accident; it was a warning to me. Because I refused to cooperate." He forces himself to smile, just a polite older gentleman sharing a dance with his daughter's childhood friend.

I nod to him, and barely move my lips, "With whom?"

"Think, Your Majesty. Sometimes strange allies are made in desperate circumstances. Allies that seem as if they are bitter enemies."

I smile as if he had told me a pleasant joke, and prepare to ask another question. But the song ends, and I am forced to relinquish my partner. Keeping my composure is proving to be more difficult than I thought, and I excuse myself from the dance floor and deposit myself into a nearby chair. The Mayor of Clermont tilts his head to me with some concern. We are fairly sure he supports the monarchy and the movements toward greater freedoms, as he has profits personally through his family business. But, I know we are surrounded by bitterness. I wave off his look, "Do not worry, Your Honor. I plan on staying awake for this event." The crowd around us chuckles quietly, as they heard from Sota about my episode.

We stay another two hours, a respectable amount of time, and then make our excuses. I can feel the fatigue clear through my bones and sigh in audible relief as we reach the plane.

Except for the guard, everyone aboard is already dozing, and Abrielle is snoring lightly in her fully reclined seat. Mary had thought to put her in her pajamas and robe. Our arrival home would be in the wee hours of the morning, and we would be able to roll her quietly into bed without waking the boys. I had been in such a hurry that I did not take the time to change before getting into the car. I am stuck instead behind screens with Marlee and Georgia trying to protect my modesty and help me out of the gown. I replace the beautiful garment with a pair of dress trousers and a soft green sweater. Then I grab my emerald flats and collapse into my seat, leaving them to change.

Aspen leans to me and lets me know that Maxon knows we are on our way, and that the cars will be waiting for us. As we lift off, I close my eyes, thinking about what Mr. Newsome shared with me. I can't say anything about it until I talk to Maxon. My thoughts turn naturally to Celeste, and our strange companionship that would have been close friendship with more time. I cannot get the image of the gun held to the back of her head out of my mind. My hand drifts to my waistband, and I touch the cool metal hidden there and resist the retch I feel in the back of my throat.

It seems as if my eyes are barely closed when I feel the familiar bump of the landing gear touching down on the tarmac. I check my watch. We are home without incident. Right on time. I notice Aspen with his hand to his ear piece, standing suddenly and then speaking urgently as he moves to the back of the plane. I follow, "Commander Leger, report."

He turns and looks at me devoid of emotion, noticing the formality that I address him with, "I've been unable to connect with the palace guard, Your Majesty. I'm sure it is just equipment failure, but I cannot allow you to leave the aircraft without making positive contact."

"Besides equipment failure, what else can cause the disconnection," I say flatly.

"Mer…"

"Commander Leger, what do you think has caused the disconnection?" My voice is quiet and terrible. I need him to say it and make it real.

Aspen's green eyes, full of empathy, look straight into my blue ones. "Your Majesty, palace security has been breached."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: So, in fifteen minute increments today, I was able to write this chapter. It is short, but I am a little concerned that prnamber3909 might make good on the promise in the last review. ;) I hope you enjoy this next installment-let me know what you think, if you have a chance. Thanks for reading! -SJ**

**T**he Devil Wears Westwood: I know. I realize I am getting more done by allowing myself the little writing breaks. :)

The Selection Fangirl: Thanks so much. Maybe after next week there might be a few days of more than one chapter... but not until then. :) Glad you enjoyed it.

jthornestudent: Thank you so much for your sentiment-and for being patient. :)

prnamber3909: I am slightly frightened now... ;) Your review actually made me laugh out loud, and I needed that!

PEETAMELLARKLOVER123: Thanks for reading! :)

sushi: Good to see you back. Thanks for the compliments! I hope you enjoy the update! :)

waterpolo3: I'm glad you're enjoying it. Hope it lives up to expectations! :)

* * *

I ball my hands into fists at my sides and reply softly but fiercely, "You can't keep me here."

"Maxon's orders, Mer."

He was attempting to be gentle with me, but I was having none of it. "And if he's dead, are you going to follow mine?" I will not cry. Not yet.

"Your Majesty, we must follow protocol for your safety."

And just like that, I am stuck. Abrielle, Mary, and Kota sleep on, but Georgia and Marlee realize there is a problem. They look worriedly in my direction, but stay seated. "What's next then?" I push my emotions back. This just isn't the time.

"When we had attacks in the past, we would switch to a secure palace-only line. It is difficult to hack, and keeps everyone in the palace safer while still allowing the guards to communicate. Unfortunately, it is currently keeping me from my teams. They will call when the palace is secure."

"That's not acceptable, Commander Leger."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. It will have to do for now." He puts emphasis on 'Your Majesty' and I know my attitude is needling him. He sees my face, frozen in a mask of determination, and his next words are softer, "Mer, they are going to be fine."

I nod, but don't speak. I can't. We stand silently for what seems like hours, but is only actually minutes. I hear a click come from the bud in Aspen's ear as the phone in my pocket begins to buzz.

"America?" Through the static I hear his voice, and relief washes over me. I start to tremble.

"Maxon."

"I am so glad to hear your voice, love. Are you okay?"

"Me? We're fine. The boys?"

"The boys, the family, everyone is safe...Ames, the next few hours will be protocol-laden. I know how impatient that makes you, so please don't give Aspen a hard time. He's only doing what I ask. We are planning to go into council meeting as soon as you get here."

"Does this mean I'll be sitting on the tarmac until we get an all clear?" I ask sharply, revealing my displeasure.

"America, we lost three troops and several others are wounded. They sacrificed to protect us. We will not have their deaths mean nothing because you don't want to sit on the airplane for an extra hour or two."

His tone suggests a finality that I should not argue against. I say nothing more, which is what Maxon intended. He is right, but I hate being restricted. Since I am not allowed to leave, the cabin of the aircraft immediately feels suffocating.

"America, are you still there?"

"I understand, Maxon," no trace of anger remains in my voice. He has enough to deal with right now. "I just wish we were all together right now." I want nothing more than to put my arms around my family and pull them close.

"Me, too. We'll have breakfast waiting in the common room when you get here. And, then you and I will spend the whole day together." He tries to put a positive spin on the political implications of the aftermath of the attack.

"I don't think council and committee meetings count as spending the day together, Maxon."

"Well, love, it may be the closest thing to it for the next few days." He sounds wistful, and I wish I could brush his honey-colored hair off his brow and kiss his forehead. "At least we'll be in the same room. Listen, I really need to go now. I've spent too long on here already."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you, too." I hold the phone in my hand for an extra moment or two. I turn to Aspen, and he is having an intent conversation over the palace link. I place a hand on his shoulder and he turns to me, expression serious. "I'm sorry," I mouth. He nods slightly, and turns back to his conversation. I have nothing else to do, so I return to the seats in the front of the cabin. I seat myself beside Georgia and Marlee, and quietly update them on the situation. But, I can't tell them for sure that August and Carter are all right. I didn't ask, but Maxon would have told me if we would have lost either of them. They are both on his personal team.

I look at my baby girl, still snoring away, and my brother, also still asleep. It must be nice to sleep so soundly. Mary is leaning back in her chair, but her eyes are open, so we wave her over and let her know what is happening. With any luck, Brie will sleep the entire time we are waiting.

"America, do you remember the first time we met?" Marlee whispers, trying to distract us from waiting.

I smile at the memory. At the time, I was so sure that she would be the future queen, she was so blonde and beautiful. Still is really. "Yes. I seem to remember we spent quite a while on an airplane then, as well." We all giggle a little, cognizant to keep our voices hushed. "That's when we met Celeste for the first time."

Marlee grins, "I will never forget you reprimanding her for being late to the airplane. She was so surprised that a five had the audacity to question her."

"I tended to surprise her, I think." But in the end, she surprised me. My biggest ally. My mood turns back to somber as I remember her murder. I wish so whole-heartedly that I could separate my memories of her from the violent end to her life. Maybe fifteen years isn't quite enough time. I can't fathom what the Newsome's had done to deserve a warning that would take their only child's life. I am still so surprised at Mr. Newsome's behavior last night that I had yet to process the information he had tried to share. I pass my hand over my eyes, take a deep breath, and slowly exhale. Calm.

Aspen finally crosses to the door and opens it, allowing early morning light to flood the cabin. Another deceptively beautiful day; the sunny sky seems to try to erase the horror of the night before. Within thirty minutes we were arriving at the front of our palace, greeted by workmen replacing first story windows. I instruct Aspen to stay with me at the front door, and ask that the others go in the delivery entrance, which hasn't been touched by the violence. We'll eventually all arrive in the same place, our common room at the breakfast table. Abrielle is too young to see the destruction that must be waiting just inside the front entrance, but I need to view it before it is sanitized.

I nod to the guards, and they pull open the double doors. I draw a breath. The wall by the grand staircase has been emptied of the usual decorations, and scrawled across the expanse in their place are five foot tall blood-red letters: "We're back."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I am writing this from an undisclosed location, due to prnamber3909's last couple of reactions. ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'll catch your comments later today. I just wanted to get this up ASAP. Happy reading! -SJ**

* * *

I'm drawn to the wall, and pick my way across the debris on the floor to place my hand against it. I am aware that others are around me, but they are kind enough to pretend they are not watching as they clear the glass and scrub away blemishes. I narrow my eyes at the phrase. A sickening stain on the floor confirms the words are indeed made of blood. I wonder whose. Suddenly cold in the warm air, I step back, and wrap my arms around myself.

Footsteps on the stairs break the silence. I can tell from the footfall who it is, and don't even look towards him until I feel his arm slide across my shoulders. I lean into him, still wordless. I can't relax, but the familiar weight comforts more than anything he could say. I reach up to grab his hand and he starts and draws a sharp breath. I move away from him a bit, and notice the brace peeking out from beneath his jacket sleeve, wrapping around his right wrist. My expression says it all.

He's quick to answer, "It's nothing, love. Just a simple sprain."

"How?"

He looks a little sheepish as he confesses, "Carter and I were a ways from the safe room when the alarms went off. He was a little exuberant in his protection of me."

I cradle his hand in both of mine. "I'm just glad you're safe."

His face shows his surprise at my subdued response. I will save my anger for the terrorists who invaded my home. He cradles my face in his left palm, "And I'm glad you're back." He presses his mouth to mine, gentle, sweet, and restrained. "You have three little boys upstairs who are clamoring for their mother. Are you ready for breakfast?"

I lean my head into his chest, "Who?" and gesture to the wall. He knows what I mean.

"Officer Riley was on watch here."

I nod, remembering the young man being trained for our personal guard by Avery and Carter. After a few more silent moments, I let Maxon guide me up the stairs.

I cannot hear my family through the closed door, which is unusual for our group. Aspen is in the hallway, conferring with Avery, Carter, and Paige. I am relieved to see that they all made it through the night. Carter has a bandage on his face under his eye. Avery and Paige look relatively unscathed, the bags under their eyes the only tell-tale sign that something happened last night. As they stand at attention, I murmur my greetings. But, we pause before going through the door. The guilt of inviting my whole family into danger is pressing on me.

Maxon squeezes my hand, a silent reminder that we can make it through this together, too.

He opens the door, and I take in the scene. Cal is trying to engage Griffin in a quiet game on the floor with Griffin. Abrielle is in May's lap at the table, stealing muffin pieces from her plate, while May is uncharacteristically quiet and trying to finish her breakfast around her. Mom is deep in conversation with Kota, while Kenna and James look on with serious, almost angry, expressions. Barrett is trying to pull Astra, Elena, and Jimmy over to the door to the nursery, and away from their parents. But the older kids are resisting, though still trying to be kind to the smaller boy. They look reluctant to leave Kenna's side. Mom's smile spreads and her eyes shine, the only one that looks totally at ease. She can barely contain her joy, as the prodigal son eats breakfast beside her. She instantly looks ten years younger-though her hair has long since gone completely white. I had almost forgotten about Kota, since I sent the rest of the traveling party to the back door. I am almost glad I didn't see the reaction when he arrived.

Because of the subdued atmosphere, every one turns to the door when it opens. Before I can blink, two little boys are tearing across the room, intent on their target. Both Barrett and Griffin barrel into my waiting arms. I bury my face in their sweet baby necks, and collapse on the couch with them both in my lap, letting pudgy hands pat my face and work their way into my hair. Cal looks like he is trying to be reserved in front of his cousins, especially Jimmy who is six months older, but quickly drops his act. I put an arm around him as he sits down close next to me. "I missed you all, too." All too soon, Griffin climbs back down after placing a slobbery kiss somewhere near my ear. He is not much for cuddling. Since Cal is occupied, he heads for Jimmy. Barrett, though, snuggles into my shoulder and closes his eyes, whatever he is planning for his cousins apparently can wait until later. I lower my voice and ask Cal, "Last night?"

A shadow passes his face briefly. He is already learning to compose his expressions, and part of me regrets that he is getting so good at it so early. "I thought it was another drill, but it took Dad awhile to get to us. And Uncle Carter was bleeding when they did." He tries to shrug, "Dad told me you were coming home, and I was more worried about you. Even Griffin slept we were in the safe room so long."

I pat his hand, "Thank you for being so brave. I know you were a big help to Miss Paige and Aunt May."

"I didn't feel brave, Mama. But I had to act like it so nobody else got scared like me."

I feel Maxon's hand on my shoulder, and he leans in to the quiet conversation. "And that's what courage is Cal. Acting brave when you'd rather hide." Maxon's attention turns to me, "Love, I hate to do this, but the council will be here in an hour."

"I know. We're needed elsewhere." I inwardly sigh, but know we will break for dinner this evening. "Just let me say hello to Mom and Kenna." At least all the additional company will distract the children while we are gone. I don't like to see Cal's face so drawn. "We'll talk more this evening?"

He nods, and I pass Barrett to him and approach the table. I hug Mom around the shoulders, nodding to Kenna and James. "Kota, we'll talk about the arrangements for your hand tonight. I know you are anxious to return to Carolina."

"Oh, America. He just got here! Don't you think a nice long visit is warranted?" Mom looks at me reproachfully and I look to Kota. He shrugs almost indetectably. But he says nothing.

"I was under the impression that Kota wanted to immediately begin his stay in rehabilitation for his hand." I raise my eyebrow at him. Always willing to let me take a little heat for him, but I'm not nine anymore. And I thought there we had an understanding. I notice Kenna is also narrowing her eyes at Kota. My big sister is always in my corner.

"It's been so long, can't he stay here and have the doctor come here?" Mom looks at me expectantly, but there is an edge to the question. I am not willing to argue about this right now. We have more important things to worry about then where Kota sleeps.

"We'll talk about the arrangements this evening," I repeat. "I just wanted to let you all know that Maxon and I are excusing ourselves. Mary is here to assist you, so if you need anything, just ask. The palace is at your disposal. Please, just refrain from going in the front hall until told otherwise. It sustained most of the damage last night." I think of the destruction and Riley's blood smeared across the wall.

"Of course, America. Don't worry about us. I was thinking this would be a perfect day to plan the birthday party," Kenna attempts a smile and May nods in agreement. They'll really take care of everything.

The smile I give them is real, "Thanks. We'll be back as soon as we can." I feel Maxon's light touch on the small of my back, ready to guide me to our next responsibility.

"Of course we will. At the very latest, we'll see you for dinner," Maxon flashes his smile at Mom and she is agreeable again, patting Kota's hand. I refrain from rolling my eyes, and am thankful she is so easily charmed by my husband. I swear she likes him better than me anyway.

We leave the warmth of our rooms and head to Maxon's study to have the meeting before the meeting. Stavros and Aspen are there waiting for us, talking intently at the table and stopping to nod as we enter the room.

I pull out my chair, next to Maxon's at the head of the table, and shuffle through the agenda items, gathering my thoughts about what I need to share based on the trip. Maxon takes his seat and does the same. I scan the "condolences" section, Riley's family is listed, along with Campbell and Stephens. I didn't know them except by sight; but, I can feel the loss of good people and empathize with their families. Two names catch my attention at the bottom of the list: Newsome, Robert and Alexandra. My breath catches in my throat as the room starts to spin.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I am enjoying your comments and I hope you are enjoying the story, still. There might even be a new post for you tomorrow. -SJ** :)

prnamber3909: Thanks for reading and reviewing and adding in some frightening humor. ;)

waterpolo3: Awww...thanks. I'm glad you like the story, and what a compliment. So exciting! Now, regarding Maxerica death-I don't think they'll be any reason to try and find my undisclosed location. :)

Flam3nco: So sweet. Thanks. :)

jthornestudent: Thank you for always reviewing! I appreciate it, and I hope it lives up to expectations. :)

Totalbooknerd13: It looks like you're enjoying it! Thanks for the review. :)

Guest: I really try. My big project is finally done, so I will be able to write for fun. :)

theoneforever: I love that moment between Marlee and America, too. (I guess that's obvious, huh?:) Thanks for reading!

sushi: Good to see your back! Thank you so much for the compliments. They mean a lot to me. :)

MyWorldMyWords: I try to update regularly. Now it is summer, and I can. I really appreciate the repeated reviews and the excitement. Thanks! :)

The Devil Wears Westwood: I know. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I think you'll like the newest chapter! :)

* * *

"America?" Maxon asks, "Did you see the last line of the condolences? Did you get a chance to see the Newsomes when you were in Clermont?" He isn't making eye contact as he pages through the reports for the meeting. Stavros and Aspen are discussing something having to do a lapse in security and last night's attack. When I don't answer right away, Maxon looks up from his paper.

It's as if I am not really in my body, instead I am hovering somewhere in the room watching the events unfold. All except for my head. My head is completely underwater. I am using all my concentration to hear Maxon, and I can't form the sentences I need to say. I press my palms against the table to steady myself. "Yes," I manage to croak. Last night's casualties actually add up to five. Five. "Five," I mutter audibly.

I have Maxon's attention now. He reaches for the hand closest to him, concern reflecting on his face, "America. America, look at me." Stavros and Aspen abandon their conversation, and look at me with apprehension.

I turn my head with what feels like a colossal effort. "How did they die?"

Stavros answers, "A car accident after the Clermont reception. The toxicology report will take a few weeks, but alcohol is likely a factor."

"It wasn't an accident."

"What do you mean, Mer?" Aspen presses, interested.

"I danced with Mr. Newsome, with Robert, right before they left the party last night," I look at the men sitting at the table with me. They all lean forward, focusing on my every word. "He was worried, but he was definitely not drunk. He told me," I took a breath. "He told me that Celeste's death wasn't an accident; that it was a punishment for something he refused to do. And he tried to warn me. He knew that they would kill him, but he warned me anyway." I look at Maxon, and take a steadying breath. Now is truly not the time to break down. "He said that this is bigger than I ever could imagine, and that 'Allies may seem like bitter enemies.' He didn't have time to explain what he meant."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Aspen seems offended and Maxon and Stavros have furrows deep between their brows.

"Would someone like to share when I would have had time? I didn't want to draw attention, and then…" I trail off, and close my eyes, pressing the tips of my fingers into the bone of my brow. Mr. Newsome's words and subsequent death prove to me that we are missing essential pieces to this merciless puzzle. It seems to be just out of reach and a wisp on an idea finally turns corporeal and appears in my mind's eye. I open my eyes, and focus on Maxon. "Remember when I told you there are missing pieces." He cocks his head at me, and nods for me to continue, so I do. "When we were in Sota, we're sure that Bariel just returned from Bonita?"

Aspen speaks up, "Yes. We have confirmation she was there the day before."

"And Bonita is always a little edgy, because of the Northern Alliance members and former Southern Rebels living in the same province. We know for sure that Bariel and her husband are Loyalists and they destroyed the Northern Alliance training center. And then, the Newsomes are killed after they warn me about danger-the same night the palace is attacked by Southern Rebels?"

Stavros sees where I am going with my train of thought, "The Loyalists have hired the remaining fringe of Southern Rebels to both create chaos and to distract us from their goal of taking over the new government."

"Not to mention undermine our current rule and the alternative information centers," Maxon adds, looking at me approvingly. "I think we've made a breakthrough."

"We're just beginning to chip away at the surface," I insist. "But we are closer than we were."

We sit in silence for a moment, and then Stavros begins to muse, "Newsome said Celeste's death was a warning?"

"Yes, but she was shot by a Southern Rebel," I shiver at the memory. "That's something I'll never forget."

Aspen, "This isn't their typical work—they're pulling off assassinations and highly technical espionage."

"They still seem to be cut from the same cloth," Stavros persists. "High amounts of destruction and death."

"Maybe more strategic after fifteen years," Maxon relents, "but they're still using fear as their main weapon. They just have more funding."

Aspen throws his hands up in the air and links them on top of his head, "I can't believe I missed it." Frustration pours out in his words. "They're working together. They always have been. Loyalists and Southern Rebels are two arms of the same group." He pushes back from the table, shaking his head. "It makes so much sense—where would these strung-out street people get modern weapons and training good enough to make them mercenaries. And, they always knew when we were most vulnerable."

"Sometimes we're so worried about the rattle we forget about the fangs" consoles Stavros.

Maxon stands, pulling off his jacket, "Let's go for the head, then. Who are we sending to Sota?"

It's after 10:00 PM before we find ourselves back in front of our common room door. Dinner and bedtimes have long since come and gone, but this is the first unscheduled time I had in the last four weeks. Avery looks discretely away as Maxon pulls me to his chest and plants a kiss on the top of my head.

"You're not quite ready to come in are you, love?"

I shake my head, "I have been stuck inside a plane or an office or at a conference table all week."

Maxon takes my right hand with his left and guides me away from our rooms, "Would you like some time in the gardens?"

I squeeze his hand, smiling, "You always seem to know what I need. Walk with me?"

"For a bit," he smiles back. "So, other than worrying about foiling the plot against the kingdom, how was your trip?"

Sighing, I respond, "It really isn't finished, is it? After things settle, I have to go back out. But, the systems seem to be working. The prejudices are still there for some former members of the higher castes. We'll have to wait for generations before that fades." And, it may never truly be a thing of the past. Kriss has been a great help in sustaining the education vision. Maybe I can convince her to become an official education advisor yet.

We nod to the guards stationed at the door, and they pull the heavy doors inward. He walks me just as far as our bench, "I'll let you have some time to yourself." His kiss ends with intensity that renders me breathless.

I barely have a moment to stare up at the stars and appreciate the breeze on my face before I notice Kota at the far side of the garden. He is wandering slowly seeming to take in every inch of the design. I know exactly how far I am from the door, and it won't be possible for me to escape unseen. I resign myself to having company.

Kota smiles hesitantly as he notices me in my favorite spot. "May I join you?"

I almost say no, but reprimand myself as Mom surely would. "Of course, please sit."

He takes a seat beside me and clears his throat softly, "I know this isn't what you planned, Sis. Having me here at the palace when your attention needs to be elsewhere."

Unsure of what he expects me to say, I agree with him. "This isn't the best time, and I only remember you are here when you appear in front of me and I am trying to do something else. So, let's have an agreement, Kota. Let's come to an understanding that you will be unseen around me. Do nothing to draw attention, and there will be nothing to discuss. Mom wants you here, and I don't want any additional drama." I stand and don't look back as I head inside to bed.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: You should never take family for granted. Poor Kota is learning the hard way... :)**

**Totalbooknerd13: She's not too shabby. :)**

**jthornestudent: Thanks! I think the last chapter answered your questions. Thanks for reviewing! :)**

**Thanks for reading! -SJ :)**

* * *

"Calix Shalom Schreave!" I shriek. "In here! Now!"

Marlee hides her mirth behind her hand, but anything my children do amuses her. If either of her two had pulled this stunt, she would have a similar scowl across her face. "He's in class, America. Remember?"

"Lady Marlee, please locate Prince Calix and bring him to me. And, if you could send a runner to the king?" She composes her face as she hears my official tone, but whispers, "Go easy on him, America."

"And if Ben did this to Everett?" I retort. She smiles and goes to retrieve the wayward prince from his lessons.

As much as I swore I wouldn't raise my voice when I had children, sometimes the hair gets the better of me. Being constantly outnumbered by small people with my own disposition, yet very little of my restraint, doesn't help. Neither does the tension of the last few weeks. Abrielle startles a little, but dimples display themselves prominently on her cheeks as she continues to play. The last few drops of green-tinted bath water finally circle the drain. I'm wrapping in a fluffy white towel when her older brother saunters into the room.

Why did he have to saunter? Couldn't he at least pretend to be remorseful? He looks up at me with Dad's eyes, but everything else about him is pure Maxon. Except his attitude. As much as I hate to admit it, that's me. Me and a life that tends to hand him whatever he wants.

"Yes, Mama? Aunt Marlee said you wanted to see me?" He grins.

"America?" Questions Maxon from the doorway, "is everything all right?" He's out of breath and I realize he dropped everything and ran from his delegation meeting. I put my hand to my forehead, sigh, and say "Exhibit A" as I remove the towel from Abrielle's now-green curls and slightly-less-green body.

Maxon's eyes are wide and he valiantly contains a laugh. Abrielle pipes up, "Daddy, my hair is green!"

"And what do you think about that, Brie?"

"It's my favorite color, but" she continues in a conspiratorial whisper that the whole room can hear, "Mama doesn't like it."

Maxon coughs into his hand as Marlee re-enters the room. "No, Brie, I don't suppose she would. Lady Marlee, I believe Aunt May is in the nursery. Would you please escort Princess Abrielle and have her dressed for the day?"

Marlee picks up our little girl, wrapping her back up, and laughs as Abrielle continues to exclaim how much she loves her green hair.

I turn my attention back to the boy in front of me, keeping my expression stern.

"Remove your hands from your pockets, Prince Calix." My hunch was correct. They are almost as green as my own. "Exhibits B and C" I add, showing Cal's palms. "D and E." I display my newly tinged skin tone.

Maxon looks our son in the eye, taking on my official tone, "Would you care to explain?"

Looking back and forth between us, he proudly shares how he had executed his plot to filch green food dye from the kitchens by distracting Cook and then filled Abrielle's shampoo bottle before leaving for his courses this morning.

An idea formed in my mind, "Your Latin exam is this morning, yes?"

He hesitates, and then nods guiltily. I had given him the one thing he most wanted-an out. Maxon spoke, using his official voice ,"Prince Calix, Lady Marlee will escort you back to class, where you will take your Latin exam, even if you have to work through your lunch break. For the next month, you will be escorted anywhere you go in the palace by Miss Paige. And when you start to complain, remember all the time you took from your mother today. You'll hear the rest of the story at dinner this evening." Softening a little, he added, "We love you too much to let you get away with this one, Cal."

"Lady Marlee?"

"Yes, Your Majesties?" Marlee's blonde hair popped around the corner so quickly, I knew she had been waiting for the summons. She held a hand out to Calix, purposefully whispering loud enough that we could hear her as they left. "See that vein on your mom's temple, Cal? If that pops, we're all in pretty serious trouble. Did I ever tell you about the time during the Selection when…"

I swiftly close the bathroom door and pull Maxon into our room so he can laugh. And he does. I impatiently wait for his merriment to subside, crossing my arms across my chest.

"You have to admit, Ames. That was ingenious." He wipes tears from his eyes.

I half-smile at him, "Maxon, he single-handedly erased three months of diplomatic work because he didn't want to conjugate Latin verbs this morning. I had to delay my meeting with the Women's Delegation from the German Federation, and you left a meeting with their Premier. When I do meet with them this afternoon, I have to do it with _green_ hands. There's some superstition about gloves..." Maxon tries to silence my tirade with a kiss, but he receives a hand instead. He improvises and kisses my palms. "He is the Crown Prince. And he is driving me to distraction! Has been in especially rare form since I returned from the tour. And there are two more little boys in that nursery exactly like him who copy every blessed thing he does. Every blessed thing. If we don't reign him in now-Regicide. Maxon, I'm serious. It will be our only option. And it doesn't matter because we have two more."

Maxon smiles and pulls me to his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck, "I know a certain red head who un-did a decade's worth of work with a five-minute report because she was mad at her boyfriend. And I hear she grew up to be one of the most revered Queen's in this. Whole. Wide. World." His last three words were punctuated with kisses.

"Touché. Just to clarify, at that time, you were making it very clear that you weren't just _my _boyfriend. So, I'm not sure you want to bring that up right now," but my eyes dance betraying my stern look. Time had smoothed over the jealousies and hurts. I cherish my friendships with Kriss and Elise and their families. I mourn Celeste, and the loss of what our relationship could have become.

"So, what's the rest of his punishment? Mucking out the stables alone? Rations of bread and water only? Solitary confinement?"

"How about being in charge of cleaning the tub until his sister is strawberry blonde again? Maxon, that poor little girl is going to be constantly and thoroughly harassed by the other three for the rest of her life."

He nods in agreement, but continues, "I'm sure she'll hold her own. She will have all of them  
wrapped around her finger. And, really love, she is absolutely thrilled to be green. I for one thank him for finding a way to get me out of that god awful meeting." He switches gears, searching my face intently, "I missed you this morning, love. Our sunrise breakfasts are one thing that keeps me going." For the last two years, we missed only for the birth of Barrett and Griffin.

I lean back and look at him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Not going so well?"

"Just slow."

"Well, we'll see how it goes with the Women's Delegation. Maybe we'll get this one in through the back door."

"It is scary how you can accomplish so much with a cup of tea."

I raise an eyebrow, "Don't forget my charming personality."

* * *

I stare at my palms. There is really nothing that can be done about them. I straighten my skirt, and prepare to meet with the Women of the German Federation. Surely some of them have mischievous children, as well. I know for sure that Gretchen, the premier's wife, has five boys under the age of ten. I can't even imagine.

Marlee and Georgia signal that they are also ready. At least my two best friends are backing me up. I open the door to the small parlor, exuding kindness and calm. They stand and curtsy and then Gretchen introduces the two women with her as Ilda and Huette.

"Please, let's sit and enjoy some tea," I say motioning us to the seating arrangement as Mary begins to serve. Something about my gesture catches Gretchen's attention. Oh, yes. I had temporarily forgotten. My hands are still very green.

She laughs, "Little boys make life interesting, don't they, Queen America?"

"They certainly do," I answer, "In so many ways." And I share the story of the morning's excitement. Gretchen and Marlee have tears in their eyes. I tell the story as calmly as I can, allowing them all to see how well my palms compare to a verdant field.

A disturbance in the hallway catches my attention. A woman is insisting she will come into the parlor, while Carter is assuring her that she will be doing no such thing. I place the voice, and hurriedly stand. "Ladies, if you will excuse me?" I don't wait for their answer as I rush to the door and step into the hall, making sure to close it behind me. Then I turn to my fellow Elite. "Lady Elise, I wasn't expecting you. Whatever is the matter?" I motion for Carter to back away a few paces. He does so, but makes sure we both know it is reluctantly as Aspen joins him in the corridor.

"As if you don't know, my _Queen," _Elise's snarl is particularly surprising because of her usual calm demeanor.

I take a step backward, and gesture with my palms up in front of me, "Really, Elise, I have no idea why you are so upset. But, I'd like to help. You know I am always here for you." I smile genuinely at my friend. One of the few people in the world who understands the experience of the Selection. Of the Elite.

"I don't believe you. I _can't_ believe you. After all we've been to each other. You…you introduced me to my husband in this very palace. I thought we were truly friends as well as allies. Our countries are prospering, America. We've pulled them out of war together. We've forged peace together. And you say you know nothing! Like hell you don't. You know everything. Why would you throw all we've worked for away? Why would you betray me? An unauthorized Illean camp within our borders! The Prime Minister sees this as an act of war, and so do I… Why are your hands green?!"

"Elise, I honestly have no knowledge of this situation. I can tell you are upset, and right you should be. I know I would feel the same." I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over my lashes. She looks away from me, unwilling to relent.

I turn to Aspen, "Is the whole world damned? Does everything really have to crash in simultaneously? You didn't authorize this unilaterally?" I direct my anger towards him, knowing he can bear it.

Quietly, he speaks, "We have authorized no additional camps in New Asia, Lady Elise. I know it sounds far-fetched, but we have had a pressing week that showed us how dangerous it is to get too comfortable."

Nodding, I add, "You have no reason to believe us, Elise. But, we have no reason to lie. Breaking the peace with New Asia would hurt us more than you."

Elise's guarded expression is back, "Perhaps we should find a better place to speak of this?"

"If you will, Lady Elise, Commander Leger will meet with you immediately." Elise nods her agreement. "Then, Commander Leger, please show Lady Elise to my study. I will join you both within the hour."

They match pace down the corridor, until Elise pauses to look over her shoulder and asks, "And your hands?"

"It's a long story, involving a now unhappy almost-nine-year-old boy and an almost-five-year old girl who is thrilled with her resemblance to a frog," I dead panned.

"I am happier and happier every day that I have one little girl," Elise says with very wide eyes.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N

jthornestudent: Thanks for continuing to read and review. Glad you like it! :)

The Devil Wears Westwood: Thanks, it was fun to write! Glad you're enjoying it. Can't wait for your next update, either. :)

Totalbooknerd13: I'm happy it made you laugh! I could just see the look on Elise's face when she notices America's hands are green. Thanks for reading! :)

* * *

I collapse into bed, the worry and the wear finally getting to me. Maxon is still in meetings, but as I almost dozed off at the conference table, I excused myself to check on the children. He knew that I would not be back. And I spent the rest of my evening showing my little loves that they are so important to me. We played game after game and read story after story. When the younger children were tucked in bed, Calix and I had a long discussion. I know he didn't appreciate being left out of the tour, but I promised that he would have his turn. He remembers that there is danger in being the Crown Prince, but sometimes he has to be reminded. If there is some way to give him more responsibility without placing a target on his back, I will find it. He is so good so much of the time, diligently working to make us proud. But Abrielle is still very green, and he put himself in a vulnerable position because no one knew where he was for sure this morning.

My thoughts turn to the events of this afternoon. Elise is placated, confident that we are not operating an unauthorized camp in New Asia. The base is an old one that we vacated during the peace agreements; and it is only by chance that Elise's husband noticed activity there. Now that she is a part of New Asia's delegation, she convinced them to let her come to us under the guise of a friendly visit. I snort to myself, so friendly she was ready to rake my eyes out with her hands. But we will work together, because now we know that Illea is not the only target, we need each other more than ever.

I bury my face in my pillow and let the tears come—I don't want anyone to see me cry, but I have put it off for too long. The events of the last few months wash over me, and wave after wave of terror and anguish flow out. I have been pushing the anxieties and worry aside trying to be strong for everyone, including Maxon. Including my family. The guilt of bringing them out of the frying pan and directly into the fire is the most difficult to bear. I am no longer convinced they will be safe in the palace—only _safer_. Marginally. Possibly. And that is not enough for me. My shoulders shake, and my pillow is soon soaked. Emptiness spreads throughout my body. I am spent. Hollow. But the tears still trickle through my eyelashes, down my cheeks, and over my chin. I curl myself tighter around my pillow, and let myself drop off to sleep.

"America, love. Wake up. America," Maxon is shaking my shoulder and I start up. The sheets are twisted around my legs and the down comforter is on the floor. I'm sure my wild hair and tear-streaked face add to the picture. He's still dressed, standing over my side of the bed sans coat and tie. Sometimes, I wonder why he even wears them if he is just planning to discard them halfway through a meeting. "Are you all right?"

I nod quietly, still disoriented, trying to untangle myself from the bedclothes. I'm sticky with sweat and the salt tracks of my tears.

He embraces me gently, "You were dreaming again. Do you remember?"

"No, thankfully." I am trying to keep my tone light, but my disheveled appearance has made Maxon uneasy. I manage a weak smile. "I'm guessing it wasn't a happy one?"

"I could hear you from the hallway door." He sits beside me on the bed and I fold myself against his side. His arms tighten around me. "I am sorry, love."

His tone alerts me that he is blaming himself for my fear. "Maxon, there is no conceivable way that this is your fault." My tone isn't harsh, just emphatic.

Sadness reflects in his eyes, "And yet I still blame myself." He kisses my forehead, leans his cheek against my hair.

I reach a hand up to his face, intending to brush his hair from his forehead. Our eyes meet, and soon so do our lips. We pour out every inch of frustration, doubt, worry. As he leans me back into our pillows, we are left with an urgent need for each other.

Weak light is making its way through the blinds on the balcony door as I open my eyes. We're still wrapped in each other, and Maxon's breathing is deep and even. I feel the old scars along his back, wincing at the knowledge that many are there because of me. I pull the comforter up over us, and hold him tighter as I close my eyes. This is the best sleep either of us has had in a while, and I can't bear to wake him.

Mary's entrance and exit is virtually silent, but with the smell of breakfast in the room, Maxon begins to stir. His eyes are soon alert, and a smile lightens his face as he kisses me. "Good morning, love."

"It is morning, isn't it? It came too soon again."

After a quick squeeze and a lingering kiss, he pushes himself upright, "It always comes at the beginning of every day." His whole face seems lighter this morning, and even his eyes are reflecting his ease.

I pretend to pout, but accept that it is truly time to get up. We pull on robes and seat ourselves at the table. Usually I am ready to eat by this time every morning, but not today. The stress and pressure of the last few days is getting to me, and I take only tea and toast.

Maxon raises an eyebrow, "You're not hungry?"

The behavior is definitely not in character for me, but I respond, "These last few days have been rough ones. A hot cup of tea and Cook's homemade bread with butter is all I really want this morning."

"Love, are you…" He suggests excitedly, letting the sentence hang in the air but running his eyes over my body and coming to rest at my midsection.

I don't let him finish the thought, "Absolutely not."

He deflates a little, and I'm sad to tell him the answer. His love for his children only expands with each addition. But what a horrific thought! A pregnancy now would be more than inconvenient, it could be dangerous. I reach for his hand, "I'm not closing the door on another, Maxon. You know that. It's just not what is happening right now," I assure him. "The tension is making it hard for even _me_ to eat."

Maxon's smiles and squeezes my hand back.

He spends the rest of breakfast updating me on the information I missed last evening. Aspen's team made it to Sota without incident, and they are managing to keep a low profile. I share about the early birthday party we'll have for Calix and Abrielle. Thankfully, they decided that they just want close friends and family to come and have dinner and cake. Besides having all the palace school children in attendance, the only request they made is for Nicoletta to come. A quick phone call to her last night confirmed she would attend. Hard to believe that the Princess of Italy would come to a children's birthday party, but apparently, mine can be convincing.

I allow myself to hope that it's a good omen. Things will turn around for the better.

* * *

Calix smiles as he hands me a piece of double chocolate fudge cake. "For you, Mama. Do you want one Auntie Nic? Mr. Stavros?"

"No thank you, Prince Calix," Stavros answers formally. I hadn't noticed him slip over to Maxon's side. Maxon nods once and looks at me apologetically, but follows Stavros from the room. I focus all my attention on Calix. He knows our work legitimately gets in the way sometimes, but he tends to take it in stride. He barely blinks when his father leaves. He is so used to this.

"Thanks, sweetheart." I can't believe he's nine. Nine and passing around pieces of cake to his guests instead of devouring one himself. I smile at the nickname my kids saddled Nicoletta with, but she has always been a good sport when it comes to them.

"Of course, Cal! I dare you to stop me from having one," Nicoletta teases. She turns to me, "I will snap him up; I swear America. As soon as he is of age. No Selection for this one. He's mine." Cal turns bright red and hurries away to join his friends, allowing Abrielle and the little boys to join him. But leaving Nicoletta to fend for herself, cake-wise. I laugh and slide her my piece, taking the opportunity to look around the room. Astra is talking with Ethan, Georgia and August's son, in a far corner. I wonder if Kenna and James mind how close they are sitting. Their blonde heads are bent toward each other. Almost touching, but not quite. Over the last couple of weeks, they have spent considerable time together. Kenna and James, Mom, Lucy and Aspen, Marlee and Carter, May and Evan all sit around the table, sipping their coffee, enjoying the cake and conversation. The children and Kota are on the other side of the room from us, devising a game. It looks like hide-and-seek might be on the docket. Hide-and-seek in the palace is always an interesting game. The last time they played, Abrielle fell asleep under a shelf in the library. The palace guard spent two gut-wrenching hours looking for her and we quickly decreed the game reserved for special occasions only. The oddest thing that they do in their variation of the game is to send "IT" out of the home base room. I think a history of peeking is to blame.

Kota's voice floats to me across the room. "Okay, if no one else wants to do it, I'll be 'IT' first." Kota leaves the ballroom to go to the designated counting spot. I watch the discussion that ensues. The children are working out their hiding spots so that Kota will have to be "IT" for most of the evening. A few minutes later, Calix follows him out, and I am slightly amused at the sight. I notice Aspen nod quickly at the guards at the ballroom door. They'll keep a close eye. Over the last few weeks, Kota has been careful not to cross my path. When I have seen him it has been in typical "uncle" moments: pushing Abrielle on her swing, building block towers for the little boys to knock down, walking Calix to the stables. My blood doesn't immediately boil when I see him pensively wandering the palace anymore. I'd still prefer him to leave, but Mom is still glowing. Even Kenna doesn't waste her time glaring at him. Since his doctor has no preference as to where he recovers, he will be a long term guest.

I turn back to Nicoletta, and hear two distinct sounds echo down the hall. I cock my head, confused, only understanding as Aspen, Carter, and August launch themselves out of their chairs and toward the ballroom door. I'm on my feet in seconds, running full out to trigger the passage way door. "Safe room." That phrase is all it takes for the rest of my family and friends to scoop children up with them as they head to the relative safety deep within the palace. Ethan and Astra have the little boys and Abrielle and are halfway down the stairs before most of the rest of the room is in motion. The alarm begins to ring. I stand outside the door, urging everyone down the stairs. Paige reaches me and pushes me across the threshold, I catch myself on the railing to keep from tumbling down the first flight. "Go. There is good reason you are supposed to be first down the stairs." I listen to her, despite my better judgment. She pulls the door closed, and I hear her feet moving rapidly in the opposite direction.

I put my brave face on as I walk into the concrete room. Lucy is huddled shaking in the corner, arms around her girls. They look so much like Aspen's sisters I always do a double-take. All the children look a little bewildered, as their parents who work in the palace arrive and are reunited with relief. Nicoletta talks quietly with my immediate family. Astra and Ethan are helping to settle everyone in for the wait. Mom and May have three out of four of my children in their laps. I scan the room. No Calix.

My heart is in my stomach as I look again and confirm the same answer. He's not here. Georgia and I come to the conclusion at the same time. An uncharacteristic moment of indecision crosses her face. I shake my head slightly at her. I can't spare her, and I can't have her open the doors with all these people to keep safe. I freeze my serious expression. I can't think about it now. I absolutely will NOT think about it now.

I make my way around to each group of people. All the other children from the party are safe, and their parents are, too. I go through the checklist of the missing. Stavros and Maxon are likely together on the third floor. Aspen and Carter know the palace better than I do. I hope Paige has found Calix and Kota. Marlee goes to Lucy and puts her arms around her shoulders as they whisper together. Everett and Ben sit silently beside her. Elena and Jimmy crowd Kenna and James, but their parents don't seem to mind. Kenna's eyes follow me intently. I can't stand the empathy I read in her face and turn away.

He's fine. He's fine. He has to be fine. I realize I am twisting my skirt of my dress in my fist, and consciously make myself stop. I straighten my back and square my shoulders.

I hear footsteps running down the stair approaching the entry way in the back of the room. I slip my hand to my holster as Georgia unsteadily draws and trains her weapon on the door. She relaxes as we hear the correct tones from the security key pad, and Kota and Calix stumble into the room. I exhale a deep breath, and open my arms to my son.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N**

The Devil Wears Westwood: This chapter should satisfy your Didasko information, and Maxerica are still alive... :)

arabellaABrose: So glad you're enjoying this. Your compliments are so sweet! Hope you enjoy this chapter, too. :)

Totalbooknerd13: Seems that way. :)

MyWorld MyWords: Thank you. I appreciate it! :)

dumbfrogs123: Awww... very sweet. Thanks! :)

waterpolo3: Thanks-hope you like the next chapter, too. :)

jthornestudent: Thanks! :)

**This chapter is a little shorter, but a lot is going on. So, it seems to be a good breaking off point. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading, whether you R/F/F or not. I appreciate it! Now, on with the story... -SJ :)**

* * *

Kota stands quietly beside me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I don't shrug it off. My eyes give him the "thank you" that I can't speak. Not without breaking down. I look down at Calix, and he buries his head in my arms. His face is drawn, but there are no tears. Using a voice hard for anyone but him to hear, I reassure him by repeating, "It's okay. You're okay now. You were so brave."

He nods his head into my arm, and after only a minute or two stands and straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. I suddenly see Maxon in front of me. What it must have been like for him as a little boy. "Why don't you go check on your friends?" I direct him toward Ben and Everett, because Lucy is clinging to Marlee. Her girls look up with relief as Calix approaches, and they all move to make a circle on the floor together. Abrielle crawls into his lap, and Calix doesn't resist. Happy birthday to them. A quick scan of the room shows some of the tension broke when Calix arrived. It is like my exhale was collective. But no one is relaxed. The worst part of being in the safe room is the not knowing. We could be in here for another five minutes of five hours. Even after the destruction is over, the royal guard must clear the building. Before the safe rooms are released, clean up begins. Especially if there are deaths. I put my hands behind my back so that I won't wring them.

Georgia and Nicoletta stoically join Kota and me in the center of the room. We turn our backs to the majority of the crowd. I reassure Nicoletta that her body guard is most likely safe. What a night to give him off. Then, I direct my attention at Kota and ask the question I really don't want an answer to, "What did you see?"

He answers just as quietly as the question is asked, "Very little. I heard two shots a little after I realized that Calix was following me. We hid in the alcove until the hallway was clear enough to make our way back. All we saw were men with their heads covered, dressed in black from head to toe."

"Maxon?" My voice is steady.

"I didn't see anything, Ames. We were focused on getting back to the closest safe room."

"I understand." Georgia and Nicoletta link arms through mine, and I depend on their strength to keep my composure. The children are safe. I'm sure Maxon is, too. "Thank you, Kota. For helping Calix." Kota just nods in response, a pensive look on his face.

As we stand there, silently, we hear footfalls on the stairs approaching. I straighten and face the door. No signs of weakness. The keypad responds, but the door doesn't open. I hear a curse and someone tries again. Marlee and I share a look. We know the voice. And it doesn't belong here. "Get back from the door," I hiss. People scramble to do as I say, and huddle against the far wall behind me. Marlee is making sure my children can't see me. Georgia responds to my sudden change in demeanor and moves for her weapon. I can hear her struggling with her holster, so I slip my gun into my hand and stride towards the door. I have to be sure. I block out all thoughts except repelling the intruder. Kota follows.

I fill the doorway, because I will block him with my body if I have to. Didasko lunges for me, and manages to wrench me out into the stairway by my wrist, forcing me to drop my weapon. I hear Georgia screech behind me. She races for the door, gun finally drawn. I smack the keypad with my fist, triggering the emergency response that slams the door shut behind me. Even if he tries, the only way back in the room is with a key. His fingers press into my flesh. I am suddenly in a headlock, my back to his chest and my left armed pinned. I stiffen, and he breathes into my neck, "I've waited a long time for this my Queen. My America." The sneer as he says my name makes my spine shiver. "I was hoping for more of a struggle."

Stoically, I try to focus my breathing and think about what Georgia has been teaching me. Ignore his free hand running from my hip to my waist and back again. I clench my teeth. I can't let him take me anywhere. My arms are pinned, so I can't hit him in the gut or face. I only have one other option. He won't expect it—he has no idea I've been training. He's not a guerilla; he's just a second-rate politician playing rebel. If he was anything else, I'd already be dead.

I lift my knee and drive my foot into his left kneecap; he howls and loosens the hold on my neck as he crumples in pain. Pressing my advantage, I twist and drive my knee into his groin and push him with all my strength onto the floor. His head meets the concrete with a sickening thud. His gun drops as his hand hits the floor and I scramble to scoop it up, training it on his midsection. _It is him or me._ I hear running behind me and don't waste any more time, squeezing the trigger three times. I turn towards the running, pushing my back against the wall and setting my sight on the only entrance. _Don't think about it. Don't think about it. _My arms are steady, but sweat runs down my back making my dress stick to me. I don't move. Not even to brush stray hairs off my forehead.

The running stops, and Carter and August are framed in the entrance. That is when the shaking starts. I lower my arms and slide to my knees, covering my mouth with my left hand.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N**

The Devil Wears Westwood: He was a little creepy... Blech. This chapter should satisfy your questions. :)

waterpolo3: Hopefully not literally! ;) Glad you're enjoying it!

Totalbooknerd13: I know, how much more does she have to put up with?

The Selection Fangirl: Thanks! :) This next chapter answers your question.

oreocheesecakes: Thank you so much for the compliments. I really appreciate the positive feedback. I hope this chapter continues the excitement! :)

Guest: Those darn rebels always get in the way... Thanks for reading! :)

Ellie Parker: Thanks so much. You're so kind!

jthornestudent: I always look forward to your reviews. Glad you so still enjoying the story! :)

CrimsonQueen24: I'm glad the story seems realistic. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! :)

Selection Fan: I am very much enjoying writing it-it just takes a bit longer as the major part is coming... :)

Ari: It's been a couple of days, but here is your update! I am so flattered by your feedback. One day, I'd like to drop everything and write for real. Thanks for being so sweet. Hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Molly: Wow, I am honored by your words. I would like to write something original. Thank you so much-maybe you could be a beta? Don't worry, it won't be historical fiction. Here's your update-please don't expire. :)

Prnamber3909: uh huh :)

**Didn't expect to be so busy these last few days. All these positive reviews are so flattering. It makes writing easier. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy this next chapter! -SJ :)**

* * *

"It's just us," Carter and August hold their hands out and approach me cautiously. "Your Majesty?" Carter questions. He holds out his hand to remove the gun from mine. My knuckles are white from gripping the handle, and I resist subconsciously. Unable to give up control. "It's okay. It's over," he whispers, again and again. Eventually, I relent and give up my weapon. I even allow August to help me stand. Taking a deep breath to steel myself against what could have happened, I look seriously at them both, "He had the code."

Carter pales, and his ear bud clicks. He turns from me and instructs someone to come and clear Didasko's body, "All floors are clear." Carter looks at me again, "America, are you all right?" I stare down at my hands. They are covered in my own blood. I wipe my palms against my skirt, looking for the source of my wound. The skin on the outside of my left pinky is in shreds from my wrist to the tip of my finger and my right wrist is bruised and swollen like I am wearing a hideous green and purple bracelet.

I turn away as the guards arrive with the body bag. As they leave, Maxon and Aspen enter the space, talking intently. They stop, surprised that I am on the wrong side of the door. "He had the code," I repeat, a little louder. A little more forcefully.

"America?" Maxon looks confused and concerned simultaneously, as he steps toward me. "What happened?"

"Didasko."

Even Maxon cannot totally keep his composure, and emotions flicker across his face rapidly. He settles on resolved, and asks, "Are you hurt?"

I just shake my head in response. "Nothing serious." We can talk later about how my skin crawled when he pressed himself against me. I hold myself removed from Maxon to keep my composure, and he follows my cue, thought it looks like he wants nothing more than to fold me into his arms. "Was he working alone?"

Aspen stands at attention. "No, a group went to the temporary detention cell where we were keeping Bariel until late this afternoon. The two shots seemed to initiate the attack."

"America," Maxon says. He hesitates and stops talking. I nod at him, looking at him until he continues. "America, Stavros is dead. He was found locked inside a safe room. Shot twice."

I am surprised at that one. Maxon and Stavros had left the room together. I wonder how they became separated. "Didasko had the code for one," I finally say. "So, he killed Stavros and then came for me?"

"If he had the code for one, he very well could have the code for both." Aspen's frustration is sitting just below the surface, "We will replace them all with another system, but to do so safely will take some time." Aspen examines the key pad. It looks worse for the wear and suddenly I understand the injuries to my left hand. "We'll start with this one, of course. Did you do this with your hands, Mer?"

I show them my left hand. The bleeding is nonexistent now, and the bruising has set in. "I couldn't let him in the room."

Maxon finds his voice first, "I'm sure they are ready to be released. We'll meet in two hours in my study to review and plan our next steps. For now, concentrate on the families inside."

Aspen pulls a key from his pocket and slips it into an unobtrusive lock. The door slides open, and I am surrounded. My family does not hold back. After reassuring everyone I am fine, I guide them up to the common area. Mom and Kota soon make their way to their respective rooms. After some reassurances and several hugs, Abrielle, Calix, and Griffin readily follow Astra and May to the nursery. Maxon follows them in, trying to steal a little time with them before they fall asleep. But, Barrett insists on being held close, and soon nods off on my shoulder. It is then that Nicoletta pulls me aside. After hugging me and examining my hands, she quietly strokes Barrett's back saying, "Your safe rooms are not so secure anymore. You know I love your babies like they are my own. Please let your family come and visit me for a while. We can be gone by morning, and no one would know it is because of the attack. I can keep them and you protected, America."

"I can't leave my people, Nicoletta. You understand. But, I will talk to Maxon about the children. Some quality time with Auntie Nic may be in order. Do you think you could stand it?" I try to tease my happily childless friend. But my tone comes across as nervous more than anything else.

"Of course, your mother, Kenna, James, and May would be coming along, yes?" Nicoletta pretends like she would not mind either way.

"Evan and Kota, too?" I gently rock Barrett back and forth.

"America, if you can pull Gerad away from the co-eds at University, he is welcome, as well."

I allow a half-smile at that, "I don't think anyone would be able to do that, Nicoletta." I nod at Maxon as he comes out of the nursery, "We'll talk about it. Will you wait here for us while I clean up a bit? We'll walk you back to your rooms before our meeting."

She nods and motions for Barrett, who she immediately cradles against her shoulder. Who knew that she had such a motherly side? "Don't look at me like that, both of you. I only like _your_ kids." Nicoletta smiles as she presses a kiss into Barrett's hair, and settles herself on the couch to wait.

Maxon leans against the bathroom door and watches as I hold my hands under cool water and let the remnants of my injury flow pink down the drain. "Ames, what happened?" His voice is soft, as he moves from the door to put a hand on my back. I hold it together just long enough to dry my hands and turn into his chest. I am too far gone to cry real tears, but shake as if I am. He just holds me, saying nothing. When I find my voice again, I whisper, "The children aren't safe here. Mom, May, Kenna and James. Even Kota and Evan, if we can get them to leave. They can't stay, Maxon. They have to go with Nicoletta when she leaves in the morning."

He nods, and asks again, "What happened, love?" I tell him matter-of-factly, without breaking down again. He takes my hands in his, examines my bruises. Then brings them to his lips. "I'm glad you're okay."

We change quickly into fresh clothes, and walk Nicoletta back to her room. On the way, we make plans for the children to leave with her for a short stay in Italy. It feels like we are failing by sending them away, but with the safe rooms compromised we feel like we have no choice. Maxon guides me with his hand in the small of my back, and I let him. Sometimes I tire of being strong. When we reach the study, everyone else is already there around the table. Georgia, August, Aspen and Carter. But no Stavros. There is a pang in my heart. We will not have time to mourn him before moving on, as it is obvious that the rest of the team is waiting for us for direction. They start to stand as we enter, but we waive away their formality.

We have no time to lose.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: A quick, late night chapter... Hope you enjoy! -SJ**

* * *

Elise joins us in the middle of Aspen's report. She received an unexpected call from her Prime Minister before she was able to make it to the party. So, not only did she get stuck in a safe room with only her personal guard, she never got any cake. I even forgot she was still with us, and feel guilty that I did not give her a second thought during the attack. Thankfully, Maxon included her in the meeting, especially as evidence is mounting that the active camp in New Asia is Loyalist-run. I pat the seat of the empty chair beside me and she obliges while I re-focus on what Aspen is saying.

"They were focused on our temporary detention cells, where we were keeping Bariel. So, their intelligence knew she was here. We moved her right before the party to our permanent center and she is still secure for questioning. We have doubled her guard, and the center is on high alert. They are well aware of what happened in Bonita." He looks at me, "Your Majesty, we don't believe that Didasko had orders to eliminate you this evening. Instead, he broke rank and tried to settle his personal vendettas. It was a six-person group tonight, and their goal was to free Bariel. We captured one individual for questioning. The other five, including Didasko, are dead." At least if Stavros died, it could not be in vain. "If nothing else, we know that we have the right person in custody. They sent six of their own, including another leader, to recover her. Stavros is our only mortality, and damage to the palace is minimal."

Maxon delicately takes my hand under the table, and the contact is calming. "But, the third leader is still unknown."

"Yes," Carter and August affirm. Georgia's eyes are pained, but she doesn't speak.

Maxon makes a noise deep in his throat, a cross between a growl and a groan. "Before the attack, Stavros pulled me from the party with urgent information. He asked if I trusted him. And, I mentioned how I knew he would defend me to the end. He said to remember that, and handed me this key," Maxon shows us a small brass key. "But then, the children began to play hide-and-seek. Kota came upon us in the alcove, and Stavros excused himself with an assurance that we would continue our conversation later. I ran up here to secure the key and then the alarms rang."

"What does it open?" asks Georgia.

"I don't know. Nothing in my office and we're guessing nothing in his."

Carter adds, "Stavros' key ring is also missing."

"It isn't on any of the bodies of the Loyalists?" I question, squeezing Maxon's hand.

"We haven't found it yet."

"And his office?" I continue to press. Maybe they overlooked something in their hurry.

August answers this time, "I checked myself, before the meeting. It is pristine—nothing out of place, as usual. And, curiously, nothing is locked."

I'm about to speak again, when Maxon's phone begins to buzz. His look of confusion turns to one of exasperation as he answers, "Daphne, it is 11:00 PM, what could you possibly want?" He does not bother to get up from the table, and I know it is because he does not plan to speak long. His look of annoyance is mirrored in every face around the table. "I'm sorry, Daphne, the children are asleep. Did you forget the time difference again? When they wake, I'll have them call you so you can wish them a happy birthday." He rolls his eyes as he continues, "You have really caught me at a bad time, and I can't talk now." He pauses and cocks his head, "Yes, I promise. Tomorrow. Good bye." I am just as irritated. Daphne always has impeccably bad timing. He shoves the phone back into his shirt pocket and mutters something about changing his number.

"If the key doesn't fit anything in his office or this study, where do we look next? Stavros surely didn't intend to send us on a wild goose chase," I offer.

Maxon rises from the table and begins to give orders. "Carter, find Avery, and get to work on the safe room locks. I don't need to remind you that they need to be changed immediately. Aspen and August, go introduce yourselves to our new guest. Georgia, we need you to make arrangements for the family to leave for Italy. Ethan is more than welcome to travel along. After that, please return to America's study so we can work out an essential personnel plan." Each person stands as their name is called, nods to Maxon, and takes off in the direction of their next task.

As the room clears, Elise addresses Maxon. "I know this is not the best time, but my Prime Minister needs assurance of your political friendship and backing in the removal of the rogue camp. It needs to look like a friendly letter."

I respond, "Well, I know how my next hour will be spent. And you?" I look at Maxon, and he holds out the key.

"I'm apparently going on a treasure hunt."

* * *

Elise and I are surprised by a visitor in my study; my mother seems to be ransacking my desk. She looks up as we enter the room. "Oh, sweetheart, how are you!" she exclaims and crosses the room to me.

"Mother, what are you doing in my desk?" I try to keep teenage angst out of my voice, but I am not sure I do such a good job of it. What is it about being with my mom that transports me fifteen years backwards in time?

"Nicoletta said the family is leaving for Italy in the morning. I am looking for the children's passports. I'm just trying to be helpful."

I focus my breathing, "Georgia will handle the arrangements. Why don't you head back to your room and start packing? That's the way that you could help us the most right now." I ignore my mom's hurt look, and explain, "I have several diplomatic duties that need immediate attention." I allow the hug she so desperately wants to give me, and turn my attention to Elise as she leaves the room.

"This should only take a second," I assure Elise as I sit at my desk. "Please sit. It's been so long since we've been able to chat. I'd be happy to have the company while I write." I try and open my drawer where I keep my stationary, and am completely flummoxed when my pulling meets resistance. "Dammit, Mom," I mutter to myself, "Now my desk is jammed." My mumbling gets louder as I become more frustrated and pour my emotions into trying to retrieve my tools for letter-writing. "This desk is never locked. I should make her come in and fix what she's broken."

"America?" Elise questions.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to have to get some stationary from Maxon's study. I'll be right back."

"America, hold on a second. Think."

"About what? My desk is jammed and my stationary is in the desk. I have some in Maxon's study and in my room. Maxon's study is closer."

I think Elise would roll her eyes at me if the night hadn't been so difficult already. "America, could your desk be locked?"

"No, I don't even have the keys to it. I rarely work in this room, and my office supplies are of little value. We freely give out the pens with the seals. Would you like one? I'd give you one, _but my desk is jammed_."

"America," she patiently repeats, "Could your desk be locked?"

I freeze.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N**

_I'm taking a look at the last couple days of comments and responding. _

CrimsonQueen24, The Devil Wears Westwood, Totalbooknerd13, waterpolo3, and prnamber3909: I know, the last few chapters have been sad. Poor Stavros! All he ever did was be loyal to Maxon.

Guest: I am trying to update more often, now that I am officially on summer break. So, hopefully that helps? Thanks for being so interested in the story that you are requesting updates. :) (Btw, an actual LOL for the last post...)

Kayleigh987: Thank you for reviewing. I appreciate your kind words! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story! Let me know along the way. :)

Wordforword: It was time to do away with Didasko-glad America got to do it herself!

nappyninja: See reponse to guest. Thanks for reading! :)

prnamber3909 & Totalbooknerd13 re: ch 32: Well, it is midnight-ish with no end to the night in sight... :)

The Devil Wears Westwood CH 32: Here's your update! Thanks for your dedication to the story! :)

LoveTheSelection: Thank you. Yeah, America's last few months have sucked. But, I'm happy the story is working for ya! :)

**Thanks, as always, for reading, whether you review or not. (It is fun to read the reviews, though...) You all are great! -SJ :)**

* * *

Elise tries to keep up as I dart down the hallway to Maxon's study, then almost runs into me as I stop short in his doorway. Aspen and Maxon are standing side-by side, arms crossed, and expressions serious. In front of them is Kota, looking earnestly and expectantly from one to another. I wish for the constant irritation to pass when I see Kota, but even though he saved Calix tonight, I couldn't totally push the emotion to the side with all the others.

I stride into the room, "Can my family not stay put in their rooms this evening? Kota, what in heaven's name are you doing here? If I'm not mistaken, you have packing to do."

"And as I was saying, because of my work with the former Twos, I have overhead a lot of things. It's amazing what people will say when they forget you're even in the room," Kota says.

Maxon raises an eyebrow, "Why are you just offering us this information now?"

"I didn't realize the seriousness until this evening when I was trying to get Calix and myself to the safe room. You all haven't been exactly forthcoming with information."

I narrow my eyes, "Then enlighten us, dear brother."

"I was sculpting in Sota before my hand was irreparably damaged, doing some work for the Mayor and his wife, Bariel. I believe she was in the Selection?" Maxon nods for him to carry on. "They seemed to be particularly concerned about the dissolution of the castes. They did a lot of name dropping, and a lot of traveling to other provinces. A particular favorite seemed to be Bonita? Wasn't there a massive warehouse fire there just a few weeks ago?"

The rest of us exchange a glance.

Kota continues, "I'm just putting the things I heard together. If I had more information, I could be of more help. I'd like to stay and be useful to you. It's been awhile since I've felt useful."

"You can be the most help with the rest of the family in Italy," I insist.

Aspen interrupts me, "Thank you for your help. We must ask you to return to your room now. We'll let you know our decision in the morning."

Kota nods, and exits the room.

Aspen looks at me apologetically, "We are grasping at straws, America. He could be of use. If he's not, what's the harm in letting him stay?"

"The only thing Kota wants is to feel important; I doubt he'll truly aid us."

Aspen assures me, "It's not that I trust him. Hell, right now I'm having trouble trusting you and your husband."

Maxon tries to soothe me, "So, we let him flex imaginary muscles. It must be difficult to lose your talent and trade and self-worth all in one blow. The family is all he has, America, and he has precious little connection left to that."

Finally, I relent, "Whatever. He is your responsibility, Aspen."

"Not that I mind the visit, love, but is there a reason you're here? Do you want me to look at the letter?"

I stand stark still for a second. Elise prompts me, "The key."

"Yes, my desk is locked. Or impossibly jammed. Either way, I need you."

Maxon understands that I never lock my desk, and leads the way back down the corridor without any additional chatter. Aspen, looking a little bewildered, brings up the rear. Without pausing in the doorway, Maxon covers the distance from the hallway to my desk in four long strides. He tries my long center drawer, and says, "An awful lot of fuss for a simple jam." With an expert flick of his wrist the drawer is open. Now, I can get to my pens.

"My stationary is in the large drawer to the right," I instruct. He tries the same maneuver and is met with resistance. His brow furrows. Aspen tries to lend assistance with the same result. The drawer stays shut.

Elise and I suggest, simultaneously, "The key?" I join the two men at the desk.

Maxon slides the key into the lock, and it clicks quietly. I hold my breath, and the drawer slides open. Inside, is a disc labeled: The End of Maxon's Selection in Gavril's script. With it is a folded piece of scrap stationary. I pick up the piece of paper, while Maxon palms the disc. The note is one simple line, hurriedly written: _It has happened before, and it goes higher than you think_.

Stavros knew he was in trouble, but had very little time to warn us. I sigh and cover my face in my hand briefly. Then I pass the note to Maxon; the furrow between his eyes gets deeper as he shows Aspen. Maxon takes the disc and inserts it into the player in my office, switching on the television. We see the grand ballroom fill the screen on that fateful night when the Southern rebels attacked. The beginning shots are not very close up, instead, the camera is panning the room. I see the dais, and feel tightness in the back of my throat as it is obvious that all Maxon's attention is on Kriss. I see a much younger version of myself staring off across the space, and crowds of people filling the seats. I see the guards surrounding the room, and even though I know they are the rebels, I feel like I would have known then if I had been paying closer attention. Even with a long shot it is obvious they are not regulation. Celeste is shot, again, and Elise and I clutch each other's hands. The room erupts into chaos, and I see Maxon taking the shot meant for me. Aspen carries Kriss out of the room, and I see Stavros take off across the space. The King reaches for his vest pocket, and the wounded Queen Amberly is at his feet. Stavros shoots the king in the head. As the monarch drops, Stavros carefully folds the Queen into his arms, and runs out of the room.

The footage continues to run, but we are no longer watching. The air has been sucked from the room.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:**

**Thanks for sticking with me! Hope you are enjoying it. Just a quick update for your Friday morning. :) -SJ**

* * *

I look around the room, as everyone else seems frozen in time. Elise's hands cover her mouth, and Maxon and Aspen just stare straight ahead, unseeing. Maxon is the first one to break the silence, talking to no one and all of us, he whispers, "He killed my father. Stavros killed my father."

"I don't understand. Why after all this time would he confess?" Aspen mumbles, shaking his head and turning away from the screen. "Why would he even keep the evidence?"

I grab the remote and pause the footage, ending the screams and moans from the suffering of the past. Tears are running down Elise's face, and I embrace her. "You don't have to watch this. Please, feel free to return to your rooms."

Elise shakes her head, "No. And I will make the call later today to extend my stay. We are allies, but first we are friends. What hurts one of us hurts us both."

I nod.

"Get Gavril. Now!" Maxon's voice is more intense than I have ever heard it. I put a hand on his arm, which he promptly shrugs off as he removes his coat and begins to pace the perimeter of the room. "Replay it from the beginning. Let's watch it again."

My stomach turns, "No."

He turns and looks at me without any warmth and spits each word. "Play. It. Again."

Aspen goes to the phone and starts to dial.

Elise takes the remote and presses the "play" button. I watch Maxon fawn over Kriss again. I hear the screams as Celeste is murdered on screen. I am transported back to hiding underneath the table, waiting to die. An unseen rebel yells, "I got the prince. Find the king." And, I watch our confidante and advisor expertly assassinate the reigning monarch. It is no easier the second time.

Without even pausing in his circuit around the room, Maxon commands, "Play it again. Where the hell is Gavril?"

I don't argue as the disc is replayed. Aspen assures Maxon that Gavril is on his way. Again, I am staring into space, the guard moves forward on an unseen signal, and my friend is killed in front of me. Maxon falls. Aspen carries Kriss from the room. King Clarkson takes a bullet to the head.

"Play it again."

This time, I find my voice. "Enough. Let's wait for Gavril." He finally looks at me, his eyes misting, then silently nods and sits on the edge of the couch nearest him.

"Commander Leger, let's see if we can find some refreshments to keep us going. If I remember correctly, the kitchens are this way." Elise is already half-way out the door before Aspen registers that it is a command and follows her.

I take the opportunity to gather Maxon in my arms. He leans his forehead into my shoulder, "I just don't understand. How could this have been kept a secret? How could he have hidden this from us for so long?"

I stroke the back of his head, running my hands through his hair. I don't say anything, because he doesn't want answers.

Gavril returns, escorted by Aspen and Elise. Maxon straightens himself quickly, wiping his face and adjusting his tie. "Okay, Gavril tell us what we're seeing here." Maxon starts the footage from the beginning, and Gavril's expression shifts from curious to horrified as he watches the events of that night unfold.

"Where did you find this?" Gavril asked. "I've never seen this footage. The rebels attacked the booth in the hopes of broadcasting their propaganda that day. They didn't realize we had disabled the feed as the attack began. We lost most of our crew, the majority of our equipment, and all the footage. This is from the stationary camera, which would have been operational without a crew because it continuously rolls. We usually switch to this view as we get other shots together during a live broadcast."

"Can you explain to me why your handwriting is on the case?"

Gavril looks confused, "My handwriting is on all the cases. I label those pre-taping."

"We've always heard that Queen Amberly died protecting the king from the rebels," Aspen says.

"That's what I was told as well. Stavros was the one who told me," Gavril admitted. "I've heard that he cared very deeply for the Queen." After a slight pause he continued, "And you, Your Majesty, of course."

"And you're sure there is no other footage?"

"I didn't even know _this_ footage survived the attack."

Maxon takes the remote and turns off the television. "Okay. We're done." Everyone looks at him curiously. "Let's get some sleep. We know who the third head is. We'll clean this up in the morning." He stalks out of the room, leaving us all to stare after him.

* * *

The sun pushes through the cracks in my office blinds. I open my eyes and stretch stiffly, examining my surroundings. Elise is asleep on the oversized armchair next to the couch, curled in a ball. Gavril and Aspen are gone. The last time I glanced at my watch it was 3:00 AM and we were watching the disc on repeat. I know we are missing the reason that Stavros shared it with us. There's essential information hidden in the video, and we have to find it. With the shock, Maxon has reverted to "command mode." I haven't seen him like this in years, and I don't particularly care for it. He tends not to listen and makes decisions unilaterally, which is his prerogative. But, he also gets tunnel vision. I stand and stretch again, then gently rouse Elise.

Her eyes flick around the room and she composes herself quickly. "Good morning," Elise responds, standing and looking no worse for the wear even though she's been sleeping in a chair for the last four hours. "Did you find anything?"

I shake my head and rub my hand across my eyes, "Not yet. I can't believe there isn't a search party out looking for us. Maxon and I always have breakfast together at sunrise." I gesture toward the window, "And that is long past."

"What's the plan for today?"

"The children will be up soon, and as soon as we can get everyone sorted, they will be leaving with Nicoletta. I'm going to try to get ready for the day before they wake up. I'm sure Maxon has a schedule he'd like us to follow after that. Would you mind waiting for us in your suite?"

Elise gives me a hug, as she says she wouldn't mind at all. She reminds me she has several calls to make, as well. We part in the hallway, and I hurry toward my room. I am surprised Maxon hasn't come to find me yet, which also means he is probably still immersed in his emotions from last night. Avery opens the door for me as I enter our room. Maxon is standing at the balcony, leaning on the railing. He says, "Good morning," in a flat voice, that reflects how we both feel. This morning is anything but.

"Is it?" I ask, and move towards him. He still hasn't turned from the view as I approach. His hair is still wet from his shower, darkening the honey tones. His dress pants and shirt are clean, but it looks like he will forego the jacket for now. His sleeves are already rolled up and he isn't wearing a tie. I tentatively place my hand on his shoulder. This time, he allows it, and I slide my other arm around his waist, resting my face against his back. I wish I could siphon the hurt and anger. But maybe this is enough for now. After some time passes, I release him and move back toward the room. "I'm going to get ready for the day." He just nods and lets me go.

A few hours later, we are standing amid organized chaos outside the main entrance to the palace saying good-bye to those closest to us. Nicoletta's eyes are wide, as if she finally realizes what she has offered us. "It's not too late to withdraw the invitation," I mention, as I give in to Griffin's request to pick him up. He's not overly affectionate, and I relish any time he wants me instead of Calix or Daddy. I nuzzle his cheek and make him giggle, "Mama's going to miss you." I let myself take a look at the crowd that is flying out today. Marlee, Everett, and Ben; Kenna and James and their three; Ethan, but not Georgia or August though they flank their only son; May sans her fiancé, Evan. Mom. My four with Paige. Kota stands to the side with Maxon and Aspen. Carter hovers next to his wife and boys. The children are beyond excited. Auntie Nic can be depended upon for quite a bit of fun on a normal day.

Nicoletta responds, "I am not worried. If anything, we will schedule a grand European tour." She winks at me, "I have people that do that, you know."

I smile, as my other small son yanks at my knee. I juggle both boys, one on each hip. They work their hands through my hair and across my face. I will even miss them pulling my hair out of its twist. Mom goes to Kota and hugs him, I hear her say, "Oh, I am so excited I get to see your French masterpiece now. Are you sure you won't come with us?" He defers and she has to be content that he is not joining them.

A howl breaks out across the cacophony. Everett and Abrielle stand in the middle of the drive, locked in battle. "Mama, she hit me!"

Marlee patiently turns to the two, "And what did you do immediately before she hit you?"

"I said she is a baby and can't sit next to me," Everett's eyes are serious. Everyone who is over the age of twelve tries valiantly not to laugh.

Marlee turns to me, "There is always something that happens immediately before the action." She rolls her eyes, making sure that Everett can't see her. She turns back to the two, working them through their latest scuffle.

Marlee's statement catches my attention, and I replay it over and over in my mind throughout the farewell. As the door to the last car is closed, something clicks. Maxon has already returned to the palace, Kota, Aspen, Carter, and August at his side.

I grab Georgia's hand, "I'm going to be late to the meeting. I'll be there as soon as I can." I rush back into the palace intent on making it to my office, and thankful for Marlee's statement that spawned my idea.


	35. Chapter 35

A/N

fanficforever: Maybe this chapter will help clear things up. :)

ILOVEFANFICS230: All good questions—it will probably resolve within the next 10 chapters. :) Stavros takes the Queen to the hospital, but she is already gone. :(

The Devil Wears Westwood: The last 36 hours at the palace have been a little crazy, you're right. Hopefully this chapter clears some things up. We're close to the end, now. :)

DancingReader: I know! Thanks for reading. :)

Molly: Thank you so much for continuing to read. I really appreciate the feedback! Hope you enjoy this chapter, too. :)

Totalbooknerd 13: The only answer to "Why?" Is "Because" or "Why not?"...Or so I've heard. Thanks for reading! :)

Strike OOO: Thank you so much. Hopefully this chapter clears some things up. :)

Coralsea25: Thank you so much. I hope you like this chapter! :)

prnamber3909: She's handy to have around, isn't she?

sushi: Didasko was their education advisor, until he was removed. The official reason was they went another direction. The unofficial reason is he has an unrequited love for America, and had Maxon convinced that he and America were having an affair. He is working for the Loyalists. Evan is May's fiancé, who we have only heard about, not actually met in the story.

**I am so appreciative of the support, everyone. Thanks so much for reading, and if you feel like it, reviewing. :) We only have about 10 more chapters left. I hope you are enjoying reading as much as I am enjoying writing! -SJ :)**

* * *

I gently close my study door, and cue up the video again. I mute the sound, because it already plays in my head. I don't need to hear the screams through the speakers of the television, too. Marlee mentioned "There is always something that happens immediately before the action" when Everett and Abrielle were fighting. And that's what we have been so focused on with the footage. The action. We hadn't thought of looking for the signal that the rebels responded to before starting the attack.

As the scene opens, I begin scanning the video. But I am so distracted by the action on the screen; it is hard to focus anywhere but on the dais. When the terror begins, it is impossible to do anything else. I decide that at this point, I won't watch Celeste's execution repeatedly. I go to my desk and grab paper and tape, and physically cover the half of the television screen where the main event is supposed to take place. My eyes are instantly drawn, then, to King Clarkson, sitting off to the side. He sits especially straight and there is something familiar about that stance that I can't quite place. A guard approaches him, and Clarkson whispers something to him as the guard nods and walks away. A second guard passes by without interaction. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Guards spoke to Clarkson all the time. The shooting begins and I resolutely return to the beginning of the video.

As I watch again, I notice something familiar about the walk of the second guard that comes soon after the first that speaks to Clarkson. I pause the video, and during the still moment, clearly see a much younger version of Bariel's husband, Alec, come near. The birthmark under his ear is evident in the profile shot, and I missed that detail the last time through. I know for sure he was not in the palace guard while I was in the Selection. Natural-born Twos did not serve. They spare each other a glance, and soon after the shooting begins.

Clarkson pulls at the collar of his shirt, and stands as panic ensues. Amberly is caught in crossfire, and he barely turns as she falls at his feet. He pulls at the collar of his shirt again as he reaches inside his vest pocket. Finally, the familiarity of the gesture registers. I've seen Maxon and Aspen make the same move hundreds if not thousands of times. The king is wearing body armor. Which means the king was not surprised the attack was coming. No wonder Stavros aimed directly for the head.

The third time through, I move frame by frame as the guards approach the king, sensing the start of the attack had something to do with those two interactions. That's when I see it: King Clarkson tugs his ear. It's a subtle movement, and if I hadn't done it so many times myself I wouldn't have noticed. The choice of signal was purposeful, I had no doubt. I rewind and take the paper off the screen, with my focus still on my long-dead father-in-law. Two guards pass him closely, as they find their places around the perimeter, Alec now-Mayor of Sota, nods slightly. The first guard steps forward and shoots Celeste. Alec heads toward the dais, Aspen tackles my chair, and Maxon falls. But it is obvious Alec's orders were to eliminate us. "I got him," Alec shouted. "Find the king!" And I know, with utmost and complete certainty, Alec didn't mean to kill the king. He meant to report Maxon's demise back to the one who ordered it. King Clarkson was the link between the Southern rebels and the Loyalists. Suddenly, so many things made sense: how the palace was so accessible; how no one investigated the missing guards during the Selection; how guards had standing orders to take the rebels alive; how the Southern rebels found their funding. And if the king was wearing body armor, and the prince wasn't, Clarkson ordered the death of his only son. Stavros was protecting us, and always had.

I watch the footage completely through three more times. Each viewing confirms my suspicions. I am on my feet again and in the corridor, trying to keep from sprinting to Maxon's study.

As I round the corner I hear Kota's voice, and I slow my pace, finally waiting in the doorway. "When I was completing a sculpture for the Alexander's of Clermont, they couldn't say anything positive about the monarchy. Without prompting, they would rake your reign over the coals. In fact, I think I heard them mention they would do anything to see you out of power. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now?"

Maxon replies, "And we backed them for a seat in Parliament. Looks like we will have to withdraw that offer."

"Maxon, I hate to interrupt, but I need to speak with you alone." I can barely stand still. He looks at me quizzically, and my eyes tell him how urgent the matter is. He stands just as Georgia enters the room.

All eyes turn to her as she says, "I am sorry to barge in. But we are trying to figure out who's carrying. We have some guns missing, and we can't afford to be sloppy right now." Everyone but Kota confirms their weapon. "Okay, Kota, where's yours?" she asks.

"What are you talking about? I don't have a gun."

Georgia sighs, "I saw you in the safe room when America was taken. You had your weapon drawn. So where is it?"

"Oh, that's not my weapon. I picked it up on the way to the safe room. Luckily, I didn't attempt to use it," Kota explains, looking from Maxon to me, and motions weakly with his right hand.

"It's not that I don't believe you, Kota, but as a matter of security, I have to corroborate your story. I have to frisk you. This should only take a second."

Kota begins to protest, "I don't think this is necessary."

Aspen shrugs, "Just go ahead. It'll be easier to do it than to fight it, Kota. Then we can get back to the meeting."

Kota's features reflect his horror as he stands and submits. Georgia tosses the contents of his pockets on the conference table in front of him. She names them as she goes, "Wallet. Pens. Key ring."

As the key ring hits the wood, the people around the table go completely silent. Maxon pales as he recognizes the fob, "Where did you get these?" He picks them off the table, and turns his full attention to Kota.

Before Kota has a chance to respond, I blurt out, "Stavros was protecting you, Maxon. Your father was the connection between the Southern Rebels and the Loyalists. The king planned the attack that day, and you were one of the targets. It's all on the disc. I've been watching all morning. Stavros has always been on your side."

Maxon blinks once, and turns his full attention back to Kota. Kota scoots back in his chair. "Where did you get these keys?"

When Kota doesn't answer a second time, Maxon crosses the table and grabs him by the neck, snarling, "We are putting all this uncertainty to rest. Now." Kota's strangled cry can be heard in the hallway as Maxon drags him downstairs. Aspen moves to follow, and I put a hand on his arm, and subtly shake my head. I know where they're going.

Despite their head start, Aspen and I arrive at the full security detention center only a minute or two behind Maxon and Kota. We catch up to them in the corridor as Kota does everything he can to break Maxon's grip on him. "Sister," Kota begs me. "I can explain." Kota's face is swollen, and blood seeps from his nose.

Maxon stops, and without turning around barks at Aspen, "Where's Bariel, Commander Leger?"

"The first questioning room, Your Majesty."

Maxon continues down the hallway with the Aspen and me following him, wordlessly. I don't feel any relief being right about Kota. When Maxon reaches the right room, he pauses. In one violent motion, he pins Kota face-first to the wall and holds him there, "Don't move." He unlocks the door with his other hand, and deposits Kota into a chair.

Bariel stands as we enter. She looks a little worse for the wear. Her long white-blonde hair is pulled into a knot on the top of her head, and her clothes are rumpled like she has been sleeping in them. She probably has. "You cannot keep me here without cause. I demand to talk to my husband!"

Maxon doesn't even look at her when he growls, "Enough. You will sit." For the first time, I can see Maxon as Clarkson's son. "You will both tell us everything. Now."

They protest. "I don't know what you're talking about," Bariel insists. "Your men picked me up at the airport as I was leaving for France. Alec is probably worried sick."

"Please, just let me explain," whines Kota.

"Commander Leger."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Aspen replies and moves to stand beside Maxon.

"I have tired of this. I'm sure these two are familiar with where my father kept the bodies. We're getting answers today. By any means necessary."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Maxon holds out his arm to me, "Come." I allow him to usher me out into the hallway, as Aspen pulls the door shut.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N

emmary1444: You're so kind! Thank you so much!

prnamber3909: Always makes me smile when I see you've reviewed. Thanks for continuing to read. :)

waterpolo3: Hmmm. Maxon did beat up his bro-in-law in the car on the way over, so we know he boiled over at least once… I'm really enjoying writing this story, so it makes me a little sad knowing that eventually it will end. It has to…but, hopefully you will enjoy the wrap up? :)

Strike OOO: Thanks! :)

Totalbooknerd 13: Accurate emotional depiction. I totally agree!

agb1700: Wow! What a review. Thank you so much! Any ideas for a sequel that are different than Calix having his own Selection? (There are so many good eldest son/daughter Selection stories going on right now…) Hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

Theoneforever: Believable that Clarkson had that streak in him, yes? Thank goodness for Stavros! :)

maxamericalove: Thank you for your kind words. Yes, this is from my brain, but I feel like KC laid the perfect groundwork for it…if only she were going to do a 4th book! I bounce ideas off my SO to make sure they follow the story line… The disc was left for America and Maxon by Stavros. It shows Clarkson giving the signal that starts the carnage during the rebel attack where both sovereigns are killed. (The end of _The One._) When the palace is attacked during Calix and Abrielle's birthday party, they had just picked up Bariel for questioning regarding Bonita and her involvement. The palace is attacked in a rescue attempt. She's a Loyalist. The key ring is Stavros'. I explain that a bit more in the next chapter. Hope it makes sense! :)

GUEST: Ummmm, maybe more than 10. They will be long enough to tie up the story. :)

guest: All good things, right? But seriously, thanks for the compliment. See my response to agb1700's comment. Hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

jthornestudent: So glad to see you're back! I look forward to your reviews. Thank you so much, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. :)

**Phew, long A/N, but for good reason. Your feedback makes my day! I hope you all enjoy this next installment. Happy reading! -SJ **

* * *

Maxon doesn't slow his pace, even as I take three steps to every one of his. His head faces forward, stiff, and his shoulders are tense as he practically drags me along. We whip by the guards, ignoring their greetings and nods and puzzled expressions. I am grateful when he comes to a small office at the end of the hall, currently unoccupied, and apparently used as a conference room. He sweeps me in and lets the door slam behind him, as he drops my elbow. He collapses into a chair, and I lean against the wall trying to catch my breath.

Stavros' keys. Kota had Stavros' keys. Stavros died in a locked safe room and my brother had his keys. My brother killed a man in my home—and not just any man. He killed the man who provided protection to my husband for god knows how long. Protection that extended to me and our children. What else did he do? Give the Southern rebels access? My heart drops when I think of all the time he spent with the children, and how he might have just as easily killed Calix as help him to a safe room.

As my pulse returns to normal, I open my mouth to speak. Before I can, Maxon waves my words away with a hand. Instead, he opens his arms to me, pushing his chair back from the table. I accept his invitation, sitting across his legs and resting against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and leans his head against mine. It is then that I realize how exhausted I am. I would give anything to shut my eyes and pretend the last two days never happened.

Maxon finally speaks, "Soon, love. We'll know everything soon."

"I know," I can't help but sigh. "I didn't think Kota was dangerous, Maxon. I would have never let him so close."

"We both put on our blinders when it comes to family." His laugh is humorless, "I'm the one who thought my father might possibly have some fondness for his only son."

"It was his loss," I kiss his cheek. "It was always his loss." I get restless and stand, and then almost immediately take a seat next to him. I let myself reflect on the truth of the statement. My emotions are raw but I keep pushing them aside; he still hasn't seen the footage. Didn't see his father use our signal to order our deaths. Cause the loss of so much life. And for what? To keep a stranglehold on the necks of the people he was sworn to protect. After a moment, I redirect my thoughts. "So, what do we do now?"

"Now we connect the dots." Maxon grabs a legal pad and pen from the middle of the table, drawing a line down the center of the top sheet of paper and labeling one side 'Bariel' and the other 'Kota.'

We brainstorm, filling in both sides of the sheet with people, places, and events. The result is a very rough double timeline. "Besides that they both preferred the company of Twos, and Bariel commissioned a sculpture, the only other commonality is France?" I examine the paper and glance up at Maxon.

"Well, it's all we have to go on right now," shrugs Maxon, as serious as I have ever seen him. "How and where they met is probably less important than what they've done with their time since. Hopefully, Aspen will have some additional information to add soon."

"You won't really have them killed," I state, even though it is more of a question.

Maxon doesn't answer, and I don't press him. With everything at stake, I'm not sure what we wouldn't do. The silence is broken by a sharp knock at the door. Aspen enters without waiting for a signal. I look quickly at my watch. It's barely been an hour since we left the questioning room.

"What's the difficulty?" Maxon asks crisply.

"No difficulty, Your Majesty." He hands Maxon a sheaf of paper. "No difficulty at all. They sang, and you won't believe their tune."

"Do I want to ask how you got this information?" I look at Aspen with wide eyes, and Maxon motions a quick 'no.'

But Aspen ignores him. "It was surreal, actually. I just took off my jacket and unplugged the closed circuit cameras. They were more than happy to tell me everything they knew. Brave. Not a word that describes either of them."

"How do we know this information is accurate, then?" Maxon demands.

"Neither one is willing to give their life to their cause. Unlike their friend from the attack. That one was dedicated. We didn't get anything from him because we missed the pouch with his suicide pill."

Maxon and I lose ourselves in the written confessions, looking up when we finish.

"What are they hoping to gain? Treason is punishable by death, and they've condemned themselves." I agree with the finality of Maxon's statement. I am pale and drawn, reading the intricate plan that connected Bariel, Kota, and Didasko. The plan that crossed years and countries and continents. Hard to believe the vendetta was initiated by a school-girl crush on a handsome, blonde-haired boy. Something so innocent and sweet can easily be twisted by the right mind and an adequate dose of bitterness.

"They wish to see you both, when you are willing, before they are sentenced. They believe they can help you get a confession from the top, but only in exchange for their lives." Aspen stands at attention, waiting our response.

Maxon cocks his head to the side, considering the request.

For some reason, that is my breaking point. The rage that flows through my body can barely be contained. "How dare they ask for anything more than their last meal," I hiss. I am not yelling, but from the reaction of two of the people that know me best, the words share the fury I feel.

"Love."

"No! No, no." I stand, and begin to pace around the table. Being with Maxon all this time, I am beginning to pick up some of his habits. The words rush out of my mouth, spilling into the air. I have been holding back for so long. "Not this time. You read the confession as well as I did! My own brother, who was living in our home, playing with our children, manipulating our sympathies and sense of family duty, conspired with a foreign ruler to murder those closest to us. To endanger our children! To reverse our social advances. To subvert our rule. Read between the lines in the confession, men. My brother would have let Didasko have me."

I lean forward, emphasizing my point by pressing my palms into the tabletop. "Kota did have a gun, just like Georgia said. And I bet he can shoot as well with his left hand as he can write with his left hand." My breath hitches audibly in my throat, and I gesture stiffly toward the stack of paper in front of my husband. My voice is barely above a whisper as I continue, "My _brother_ allowed me to be pulled unarmed from a safe room in front of my four children. In front of our entire family. My _brother_ was content to stand by and let me die. Because it might mean his power and prestige could overshadow our own. Because it might mean he would become Daphne's One." I draw a breath, and exhale the rest in one utterance, "And, my _brother_ can _burn_ for it."


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N**

**Hi, Everyone, Thank you for being so patient waiting for this installment. It wasn't quite as quickly as I intended. I am responding to the comments at the end of the chapter. Some of your questions will be answered in this chapter-some throughout the next few. Again, thanks for hanging in there. I am enjoying wrapping this story up. Hope you are still enjoying reading! XOXO SJ**

* * *

Maxon looks toward Aspen and nods.

"I'll be right outside," Aspen states.

I wait until the door closes behind him to say, "Don't even. Just don't. I won't ever be in the same room with him again. Much less grant him any sort of mercy. He deserves everything that will come to him, and more." My eyes are blazing, and I'm sure my cheeks are on fire, as well. I cross my arms, daring him to say the opposite.

"Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to give him what he deserves." He shows me bruised and swollen knuckles on his right hand. "I had to use great restraint so that he would make it here." He pauses, and looks up at me across the table, "But it's not only about what Kota deserves, love."

I say nothing, stubbornness radiating off of my form.

"America, we have a responsibility to our people. The only way to end this, for good, is tied to those two. We owe it to everyone who has fallen. We owe it to Stavros. We owe it to the memory of my mother." His voice falters, and he breaks eye contact. He is recalling the video, and he has yet to view for himself the signal that initiated the attack.

The confessions confirmed what I saw: Clarkson was the connection between the Loyalists and the Southern Rebels. In actuality, many of the leaders of the Southern Rebels were from Loyalist families, appointed and paid off by the former king. Bariel's husband, Alec, was actively involved in the attack at the end of the Selection. Bariel and Alec met in France—where many Loyalists went when we began to implement our reforms. Clarkson had never hesitated to take what he wanted, and Loyalists feared our caste dissolution plan included confiscating their assets. Of course, that was absurd. But how could they know how different Maxon would be?

And, Kota. Kota traveled to France at Daphne's behest. And, apparently they turned to each other, as both were bitter about their exclusion from the inner circle. His hand was purposefully broken to work on our sympathies. Who would leave their repentant broken brother to fend for himself?

Maxon takes a deep breath and continues, "What strikes me about these confessions, the current conspiracy, the actions of my father: the foundation is cowardice. They feared the loss of their control and would keep it by any means possible. And it's all a false perception. Alec and Bariel are better off financially than before we came to power. Kota was the darling of the rich and famous across the world, a celebrity in his own right. And my father. My father and his _precious_ cast system: if he would have compromised at all, he would still be king. Everyone would still bow and scrape. But, Daphne is especially baffling. Did she really allow her fear to face her world twist her thinking this completely?"

I finally sit back down across the table from him, "Daphne's still in love with you."

"Now is not the time for jokes, America."

"I'm not joking. She's a psychopath, obviously. But, she is very much in love with you." I shake my head and try to swallow a giggle.

Maxon raises an eyebrow, "Love, this isn't funny. How would you like it if the entire Leger family was out to get me?" We meet each other's eyes, and Maxon starts to chuckle as well. Soon, we are laughing so hard tears are rolling down our cheeks.

Aspen steps back into the room, "What the hell is going on in here? I can hear you in the hallway."

"An urgent matter of state obviously. I believe this would be completely solved if Maxon invites Daphne into the treehouse." Our laughter breaks out again, despite our attempts to squelch it.

Thoroughly confused now, Aspen questions, "Have you made your decision regarding our new prisoners?"

The simple question sobers us, and the weariness returns. Maxon responds, "We will speak to them. But not yet."

"And what about the bigger issue?" Aspen presses.

"What do you do with a wayward monarch? I guess this is an act of war." Maxon looks deflated; he is so tied to his peacekeeping work. He prides himself on it.

Aspen responds, "Maybe not."

"What are you talking about? How can it be anything else?"

I sigh, "You have an idea."

"I might. I need to talk to Lady Elise first."

Maxon looks from Aspen to me, and back to Aspen. "We'll convene over dinner this evening. I'll look forward to your report."

"This isn't something that's going to blow up in our face later?" I ask, taking Maxon's offered arm, but looking at Aspen.

"I've been protecting you for years, Mer. Go home and keep a low profile, and I'll explain tonight. Don't you trust me?"

* * *

It's eerie. The palace is so quiet when we return. We are working with a small staff for the next couple of the days, until we make our decisions. With war looming in front of us, it seems like the activity inside the palace should match the frenetic pace of our thoughts. Guards nod at their appointed places throughout the corridors.

Aspen's warning for me to keep a low profile seems odd, but Maxon and I acquiesce and return to our common room. We sink into the couch, and it seems like I can almost hear the children in the next room. But it's just my mind playing tricks on me; it's where they are supposed to be. Bariel and Kota and Daphne have deprived me even of them. I can't remember the last time I sat here without a small person leaning against my side or spreading across my lap.

Now, alone like this, I can't keep the tears from sliding through my lashes. Before I know it, they are coming thick and fast, and I'm sobbing and apologizing all at once. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just can't. I can't." Maxon's pain is evident on his face as he pulls me to him. He strokes my head, pulling the pins out of the simple knot, and smoothing his hands over the thick strands. I'm soaking his jacket, but he doesn't move. He embraces me gently as I curl into his shoulder and the pain and the fear and the uncertainty flows, alternately leaning his head against mine and pressing his lips into my hair.

As my crying slows, I turn my head to look up at him. He's already looking down at me, his expression soft and a little sad. "I love you. I will do everything in my power to keep our family safe."

I don't respond with words, choosing instead to close the short distance to his lips. He pulls back a little from the kiss, cradling the sides of my face with his palms. I answer the question in his expression with a small nod, leaning in again to capture his lips with my own. I need the reassurance and safety I can only find in his arms.

* * *

**waterpolo3: Thanks-hope it you enjoyed this chapter, too! :)**

**maxamericalove: How sweet! Thanks for the compliments and dedication to the story. Glad you are liking the book-maybe this chapter meets some minor maxamerica love? :)**

**AcademicGirl: Thanks so much! (Loving both of your stories, too.)**

**The Devil Wears Westwood: I guess the update wasn't soon, but I'm glad you liked it. (Patiently waiting for your updates, next...:)**

**coralsea25: Thank you. Really, America should have known better... ;)**

**Guest: More will be revealed over the next couple of chapters, but Kota sculpted for France... And Daphne-one crazy lady!**

**Strike OOO: Thanks so much...it's been hard to keep it hidden but provide clues that make sense. But, it is the end of the story is almost here... :)**

**agb1700: Thank you so much for the compliments. I know this post wasn't soon, but hopefully, worth a little wait? She'll show him what she saw soon. :)**

**prnamber3909: Again, you make me laugh. :)**

**BlueGirl 1234: Thanks so much! :)**

**jthornestudent: She'll show him what she saw exactly soon; he's still digesting watching Stavros off his dad. Hope you liked this installment! :)**

**Totalbooknerd13: ... I know ... :)**

**guest: Thank you so much-and thanks for the idea. I'm still not totally sure what I'm going to do. But, I will write a sequel! :)**

**fanficlena: Wow-what a wonderfully kind review. I appreciate it so much! Yes, Daphne is really the third leader. I try really hard to keep the characters true to their development, but acknowledge they are in their thirties now. So, hopefully they grew up a little. :)**

**Obsessed: Life has gotten in the way, but here you go! :)**

**sushi: Kota got involved with Daphne-she's the other woman he refers to when he and America meet back up. The lone surviving attacker (out of the 6 that included Didasko) took his cyanide before they could interview him. The only people they can get information from are Bariel and Kota now. Kota's motive will be fully revealed by the end.**

**AGreatBigWorld: How's this for a response? :) My apologies to One Republic.**

Start  
I'mma start with this  
Just a single thought followed by words  
I hope I don't miss  
Miss anything...

**Guessing you've seen the remix with the response, but I can't respond with the other half! :)**

**Thanks again, all. I hope to post again within 36 hours... :)**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N**

**Look, only 24 hours since the last update! Comments at the end. :) I hope you enjoy this next installment. Thanks for reading!**

**-SJ :)**

* * *

A breeze plays in my hair, and I will my eyes open. Maxon is where I expect him to be: standing on the balcony, looking out over the grounds. I just don't expect him to be half-dressed. The muscles in his arms stand out as he leans against the railing, and the old scars stretch across his back. Almost as if he senses me watching him, he looks over his shoulder. When he sees I'm awake he motions me over, and I grab his button-down from the bed post and join him. I'm in awe, watching the moments before dusk rolls across the landscape. The sunset overflows with orange and pink and gold, giving the tree tops an other-worldly glow. Maxon told me once that photographers call this the "magic hour."

"It's not fair that everything is so beautiful right now," I whisper. "It should be raining, big ugly gray drops."

He takes my hand, bringing it to his mouth. "Oh, but love. I've been standing here, pretending. We have nothing but time and each other, and no reason to leave this room."

"Sounds wonderful," my voice cracks a little as he reels me closer.

"No responsibilities to anyone else. Just my beautiful bride and me, completely alone for a minute or two more," his voice is husky in the back of his throat. He slides a hand behind my neck, and places the other gently in the curve of my hip. "I can't think of a better way to pass the time before dinner," his breath teases my lips.

Before, I needed to erase the feeling of Didasko's hands on my body. I needed the reassurance that something was still right in my world. Now, both barefoot, only his oxford separating our skin, I can block everything else out. Almost forget and steal this time for ourselves. The headiness of the scent that is particularly his urges me closer to him, and I run my hands up his chest and around his neck. Intense longing overwhelms me as his lips finally meet mine.

A sharp knock at the door breaks our reverie, and it crashes down around us as Aspen pokes his head in the room. Maxon's face immediately hardens, and he steps in front of me with an arm out protectively. His other hand points directly at Aspen, as he barks, "Your fifteen seconds starts now."

Aspen puts both hands up and avoids our glares and state of obvious undress, "I'll share the details at dinner, but if you get a call from France, she's in a coma." The door shuts as quickly as it opened, and within the allotted time.

We both freeze, but I know that the moment will not be repaired. "Go ahead. Follow him."

"Do you want to come with me now or wait for dinner?" Maxon asks, barely sparing me a look as I hand him his shirt and turn my back to wrap myself in my robe.

"No, no. Apparently, I am clinging to life," I say as I crawl back up on the bed. "Doc gave me strict instructions to relax and recuperate. I don't think you're quite distraught enough. You might need to turn it up a few degrees if Daphne calls."

Within moments, he is ready. I use every ounce of restraint to avoid pouting, the tenuous position we are in should be enough to ground me. "Could you please have someone send up a glass of orange juice?"

He raises an eyebrow, but nods, drops a kiss on my forehead, and heads out the door. I flop back into the pillows, deciding to catch a few more minutes of sleep before dinner.

* * *

I take my time heading back to the dinner meeting. The extra nap served only to make me more tired, and I was now feeling the soreness in the bruise on my wrist. The extra guard is evident. Carter and Aspen have tripled the in-palace security, but I have yet to run in to any staff besides Mary when she brought my juice.

I take a deep breath, and enter the room to an interesting tableau. Elise, Georgia, August, Carter, Gavril, and Aspen sit with Maxon around the table. All except for Aspen and Maxon are eating their dinner in complete silence. Aspen is scribbling on scrap sheets of paper and passing them to Maxon, who is on the phone.

"Yes, yes," Maxon says. "We are sure that New Asia is behind it. Every time we are attacked, Elise is visiting or just visited. She made wild accusations and confronted America at a meeting with the German Federation." Elise makes an exaggerated and voiceless, who me?, motion, almost causing Maxon to lose his composure. He shakes his head no, and Aspen glares at her. "Oh, that's what your intel says, as well. And that's why you called. Thank you for looking out for us." I take the empty seat on the other side of my husband and cross my arms across my chest, pushing away the plate Georgia sets in front of me. Apparently, this is part of the plan. "At least America's brother is here; he has really helped us by stepping into Stavros' place. I don't know what we would do without him." His voice softens, "I do need the support of our oldest ally." He listens for a bit, and I feel my face fixing in a frown. "America?" Aspen slips him another piece of paper. "Yes, it is sad," his voice is cold, but his eyes are apologetic. "Yes, she is. But, maybe it is for the best." He's quiet again for a minute or so, and then says, "I look forward to your visit. Yes, see you soon." He hangs up the phone.

Steam. Steam must be coming out of my ears, as everyone around the table looks at me warily and then focuses on their plates. "So, what I know of this plan so far is that I am in a coma and my dear husband is not too broken up about it. Would anyone care to fill me in?"

"Aspen came to me earlier this afternoon, and shared the confessions of Bariel and Kota. I did a little more digging, and both have made several trips to New Asia over the last few years," Elise explains.

I look at her, "So my coma and my husband flirting with another woman was your idea?"

"No, I didn't say that, America. Aspen…"

Elise trails off as Aspen says, "Actually it was yours. Earlier this afternoon, you mentioned this could all be solved by Maxon taking Daphne to the treehouse. So we are. Metaphorically of course."

"And why the dramatics?"

Aspen clears his throat, "We need her to travel here without suspicion of ulterior motives. Our problem is how to reign in a monarch who is misbehaving. We can't arrest her or eliminate her without causing war. And war is exactly what we are trying to avoid." Maxon nods for him to continue, and the rest of the table looks at me expectantly. "We need to flush out if this is just Daphne, or if her whole cabinet. And, frankly, all we have to confirm our suspicions right now are the confessions of Bariel and Kota. Two people trying to save their own skin. We know we're correct, but is it enough evidence to go to war over? We need her to implicate herself in front of others."

"She underestimated your friendship with Elise, but if you were more suspicious of each other, she would have already restarted the Illean-New Asian war," August reminds us.

Maxon reassures me, "We have support around the world. People are horrified, and frankly not so surprised. Our staunchest allies, Swendway, Great Britain, Italy, the German Federation and New Asia are ready to remind France of its place militarily if we can't find a way to contain Daphne. She is correct when she says her power is fading. But, all of the allies would prefer not to punish innocent citizens for her crimes."

August adds, "They are traveling our way now, to make a concrete show of diplomatic unity. Everyone wants to be sure that international misuse of power can be condemned and contained peacefully by the rest of the world."

"An international alliance of nations?" I question and turn to Maxon. "We've always dreamed of that." He nods. "Maybe some good will come out of this, after all." I sigh and sit back in my chair. I'll be glad when this is over and I can get a good night's sleep. "Now what?"

"Now, we have to make sure that this is believable. We'll bypass your contributions on _The Report_ tomorrow by sharing that you are ill," Gavril says.

"Won't that cause country-wide concern?"

"After your behavior in Sota, people will just assume another member of the royal family is on its way." In response to Georgia's comment, a smile tugs at the corners of Maxon's lips and he winks at me, causing me to flush. Everyone finds the statement amusing, and I just shake my head and purse my lips.

"Georgia, it sounds as if we need to schedule and assign staff, and plan the formal meals. Elise, we would welcome your help if you'd like to join us."

"I've already begun, Your Majesty," Georgia smiles. "I'll meet you in your study so we can confirm the arrangements."

That statement seemed to signal everyone to go their separate ways to complete their work. Maxon, Aspen, and I are left alone again, and Aspen says, "One more thing, Mer."

I cock my head, "Yes?"

"Once the dignitaries arrive, you need to stay in your common rooms. If Daphne sees you, this operation will crumble. All the time and energy everyone is putting in will be for nothing. We are tripling the guard."

"That should keep up appearances," I comment.

Maxon and Aspen share a look. And, I know without a doubt, that the guards will be there as much to keep me in as to keep anyone out.

* * *

agb1700: Thanks so much. What do you think of this installment? :)

The Devil Wears Westwood: I'm glad the chapter came at a good time. Your update was great, too! :)

prnamber3909: Maybe I sound like I'm stuck on the same track, but another literal LOL. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)

Strike OOO: I know, sad. But, I promise there will be a sequel!

maxamerica love: Thanks! You know when you have the choice between weeping uncontrollably and laughing, sometimes laughing is the only way to go. I'm glad you're enjoying it. How did you like this chapter? :)

BooksAndComics: I am so glad-thanks for reading and reviewing! It makes my day to read reviews like that! :)

Totalbooknerd13: I know. :(

jthornestudent: Thank you so much for riding the coaster with them. :)

JohnLegend: I have to say, answering music with music is difficult, but it's stretching my brain. Hmmm... how does this work:

Everything is great  
Everything is grand  
I got the whole wide world in the palm of my hand  
Everything is perfect  
It's falling into place...

Life _is_ a Happy Song... And I think the last chapter explained Aspen. :)  
Guest: I'm happy you're excited about a sequel-I am, too!


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N**

**Thanks for continuing to read! It's been fun reading and responding to your reviews, too. :) Hope you enjoy this next chapter. -SJ (Comments to reviews at the end. XOXO)**

* * *

Four days later and flower arrangements are beginning to cover every available surface in the palace. Or so Mary tells me. There are thirty or so in our common rooms alone. I pace from one to another, reading cards from our citizens and friends. I feel little twinges of guilt with each one, especially the one from Kriss. The card was exquisite and bore beautiful and characteristically Kriss-like homemade touches, including a heartfelt message penned in her own hand. Gavril really sold my illness on _The Report_.

I prowl from room to room, making a circuit from our bedroom to the common area to the empty nursery to the common area to our bedroom and back. I've been confined here for most of the morning, and I am ready to pull my hair out. I can't open the balcony doors like I usually do, and the claustrophobia is overwhelming. Elise cannot visit me, as she is busy settling her prime minister. My piano is off limits, as the music would draw attention. Mary comes in and out, but I think I am driving her a bit batty as I can't sit still. She tries to engage me in card games, but I can't concentrate and she wins every hand in a matter of minutes. Every book I have attempted to read is discarded and littering one half of the couch. My stack of project files sits untouched in the middle of my desk, again, because I don't want my lack of focus to make a mess of the work Georgia, Marlee, and I have already done.

I sit at my dressing table again, and take the pins out of my hair. I glower at myself in the mirror and my reflection shows me how utterly ridiculous I look. I hear a commotion in the corridor outside the room and it continues through the common area. "Wait! You can't go in there," Avery protests, as the door to the bedroom is flung open wide and I leap to my feet.

"I'm sorry Your Majesty. I tried to stop her," Avery explains. He has always been a little unsure of what to do with the force that is Princess Nicoletta of Italy.

Nicoletta pats him on the cheek, "And he did try so hard. Now be a dear, and track down some tea for us?"

I nod to dismiss him and in a haze of confusion, Avery bows, and returns to his post.

"Well, he's not going to find any tea there," Nicoletta mutters, and then turns to me. "America, you look so, so…I think it's rested!" she exclaims, kissing both my cheeks exuberantly. "Has it only been a week? A coma wears well on you." She winks and links her arm through mine, guiding me back into the common room.

"Oh thank heavens you're here! Please, sit." I sweep the books onto the floor and we both collapse onto the couch. "How are the children? I wasn't allowed to call the last few days. Aspen is afraid the phones are tapped, and is working on securing more lines."

"I am fine, thank you for asking," she teases. "And, the children have been absolutely wonderful! They are so lively after a bit of expresso." I raise an eyebrow, and she laughs. "I'm just kidding…mostly. Our castle has a needed little excitement and your group has provided it. And your sisters! Così prezioso! Thank you so much for sending them to us."

Despite myself, I am soon laughing, too. "Thank you for taking them in. They can be quite the handful, even not drinking expresso at breakfast. And, mother?"

"I can see you take after your father," she says, patting my arm.

"Nicoletta, you've never met my father."

"Right," she smiles and changes the subject. "I do have one complaint for you. At breakfast, I was seated by the King of Swendway. We both know he is a horrible bore!" I can only laugh in reply. "At home, we have art younger than he is! But, America, he brought his grandson." She fans herself, "Is twenty-three too young for me?"

"For me, yes. For you, never, Nicoletta," I respond, and we lose ourselves in another fit of giggles. I do not know who directed Nicoletta to me, but I suspect Mary is to thank. Especially as she enters and winks at me as she lays out tea, including sandwiches and fruit, and leaves again.

Nicoletta muses, "Oh! Avery did manage to find tea standing against the wall. I was wondering how he would accomplish that."

"In all seriousness, my friend, how is it going?" Nicoletta knows I am dying to be involved in the proceedings. Maxon and I rule as a team, and I hate being left out of the final phases of this plan.

She responds, "Everyone is completely on your side about Daphne. They are so aghast that she could harm you, after all your advances in Illea. If this _sting_ doesn't work, she'll be crushed like a bug. Besides this _France_ thing, so much is being accomplished by simply being in the same room together. Would you be against being attacked once a year so we all have an excuse to meet?"

"I'd rather not, but meeting once a year would serve us all well." We turn to our tea, diplomatic conversation beginning to consume us. Finally, the minutes no longer seem like hours. And before I know it, Maxon is entering the door for the afternoon break.

"Nicoletta," he smiles, "I thought I would find you here. The Prince of Swendway has urgent business with you?"

She darts up, "Apparently, twenty-three is _not_ too young. Please excuse me, dear. Such a pleasure to see you again so soon! I'll be back when I can sneak away." And, just like that, she breezes through the door and down the corridor.

Maxon shuts the door behind her, "What did she do? Avery looks like he's been hit by a truck."

"Well, she is Nicoletta," I shrug, and he nods in understanding. "Remind me to thank Mary later. I was beside myself ever since you left this morning."

I pat the couch cushion, and he sits taking my hand. "How rough was it being stuck in here while everyone was arriving?"

"Probably about as difficult as you think," I respond, gesturing to the mess. "The worst part is keeping the blinds drawn. I don't care how much light they let in, it is not the same as throwing open the windows and doors. I think Nicoletta was Mary's last ditch effort to keep hold of her own sanity."

"Well maybe my surprise will make tomorrow more tolerable," he says, taking the television remote from the coffee table. He turns on the television, and I see our small receiving parlor. Staff are bustling to set up serving tables and arrange furniture around a viewing screen. More than just seeing them, I can hear their instructions to one another.

"Oh," I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but do not succeed. "It's almost like being there."

His expression changes from excited to hurt to resolved at my response. "We discussed this last night. Aspen and Carter explained this yesterday and again this morning. Even Georgia agrees. For your own safety, there is absolutely no way you can leave this room until we have Daphne in custody. And she's not even here yet, love." His expression softens, "Please. For me. This is how we're working together on this one."

"Fine," I relent. I finally smile, and Maxon's face brightens. "Thank you for thinking of me—I appreciate the intent."

He kisses the back of my hand, and asks, "Has Doc been in yet today?"

"Doc? No, why?" Confusion is evident on my face.

"Well, we are putting forth the story that you're in a coma and recovering in the privacy and comfort of your room. It makes sense that Doc would be in and out," Maxon explains. "Plus, you've put off your physical, and refused to visit the infirmary after the attack. It seems that there are many reasons why Doc should pay you a visit. He'll be in before dinner."

I groan, "This day keeps on getting better and better. Next, you'll tell me you're sending the dentist up, too."

* * *

**ajb1700: Thank you so much! I think I am going to do a sequel; I was roughing out a timeline this morning... But, I have an original project I'm working on with my SO. We'll see if I can do both at the same time! Thanks for reading and being such an enthusiastic reviewer! :)**

**Strike OOO: Aww-sweet. :) A sequel is in the works... And, what are you talking about? If I had three words to describe America, they would be 'patient,' 'patient,' and 'patient.' Hehehe. ;)**

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**coralsea25: Aspen didn't really consider that part well, did he? Oh, well...we'll see! Thanks for reading & reviewing! :)**

**AcademicGirl: Thank you so much. I don't think America would go for that...she's pretty particular. ;) But, I'm glad you are liking the story. I *heart* your stories, too. :)**

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**Guest: Thanks! That's something to think about. :) Although, at the end of****_ The One_****, she saw the light streaming in through the windows during the rebel attack, and she says something about the sun shining while the world was falling apart. :) I hope you liked the newest chapter. Thanks for the review! :)**

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**_Thanks for stopping by! :)_**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N**

**Hi, all...Getting close now. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this newest chapter! -SJ :)**

* * *

"Love?"

I open one eye, and see Maxon leaning over me. I turn away from him, pulling the duvet over my head and mumble, "People in comas sleep in."

"There's fresh juice," he tempts me.

I just grunt in reply, so he tries again, "Strawberry tarts?"

Sighing, I prop myself up on my elbows, "You actually had me at fresh juice. Is it in a big glass?" Maxon holds up a pilsner, three-quarters full. He smiles as I pull on my robe and take my seat at the table, and hands me my juice as if bestowing a first place trophy upon me. Breakfast looks a little different than usual, though for the last couple of weeks, I haven't felt much like partaking. The stress and odd hours led us from taking a piece of toast on the run and calling it a morning to skipping the meal entirely. I try to figure out what's different, and finally it strikes me that Maxon's customary carafe is missing.

"Mary forgot your coffee this morning," I comment, taking a swallow of juice. "That's not like her. The stress must be effecting her, too."

Maxon shrugs it off, "I'll get some when I go downstairs. Let's not bother her now. I have a feeling she will have her hands full today."

"I think there's a reprimand in there somewhere."

"Was it that thinly veiled?" he jokes.

"Hmmm. Speaking of, when did you get in last night? Georgia left way after the midnight guard change and you still weren't back."

"The trade agreement we thought would take another year," he begins.

I interrupt, "The one with The German Federation and Great Britain?"

"Yes, love. We signed last night, and then congratulated each other on the signing. I do wish you could have been beside me for it. Your work with Gretchen helped move it forward."

"Well, according to both Nicoletta and you, there are good things resulting from these circumstances. So, that is comforting at least." I take another sip of juice and then another, until I drain the glass. Nothing beats the oranges from the tree in our gardens. Maxon is watching me, and suddenly I am self-conscious. "It really does taste wonderful today."

Maxon smiles, and reaches for my hand, "When I came in last night, I was so afraid I would wake you, I almost took Calix's bed. But, I just wanted to be with you. I am pleased I managed to give you at least one night's decent sleep. You are beginning to look rested again." He gently supports my arm as he looks at the fading bruise left by Didasko's hand. He brushes his lips across the inside of my wrist, near my palm.

I squirm a little from his close examination, my initial petulance melting away. But with what remains, I share, "You weren't so quiet. What did you trip over on your way in?"

"Someone moved an armchair in the path from the door to the bedroom from when I left the room before dinner to when I returned to sleep. Can't imagine how that happened?"

I smile, "I haven't the slightest. Couldn't possibly be the fifth arrangement of furniture Georgia and I completed last evening."

"Of course, how thoughtless of me. How else did you keep busy?" he looks at me over his tea cup.

I wait until his mouth is full, then respond smirking, "I wrote a silent musical score—as I can't use the piano right now. And then had Avery and Georgia perform it, using their forks as puppets, of course."

He sputters, "Really, love. Was that completely necessary?" I snicker as I toss him an extra napkin and he mops up his lap. "The problem is, that I can picture Avery doing that at your request." He gives up on his undershirt and tosses in into the corner, shaking his head and sparing a half-smile. "At least I haven't dressed yet."

I get up from my chair, and lean over the back of his, resting my chin on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around him. "When is she arriving?" We both know who I'm referring to.

He sighs, "She called last evening, before her plane took off from Paris. She'll be here before lunch."

"And the schedule of the day?"

"Everyone is taking breakfast in their rooms. I am meeting Daphne in the parlor. When she and Frederick are safely there, and the other countries have joined us, a team will neutralize her guards. And, the games will begin. The only thing I am worried about is how circumstantial our evidence is. We have only just begun to corroborate their story with a paper trail," he pats my arm absentmindedly, and I plant a kiss by his ear.

"Everyone already believes you. They seem ready to think the worst of Daphne."

He shrugs, "Apparently, trying to re-start a war between two prosperous countries is not the only thing she's been up to lately. Her plans exceed claiming Illea's kingdom, and show her desperation to be influential in the world. If not for her personal grudge, she may have been able to cause quite a bit of destabilization in the European kingdoms. Her mistake was trying to pit Elise against you."

"She has made more than one, but underestimating me seems to be her perennial favorite." I return to my chair, "I'm just sorry I can't be there with you to face her."

His face reflects that want, "I know, love. I know. I'm a little jealous that you get to watch the whole drama play out on closed-circuit television. I actually have to be there, and pretend to reciprocate her twisted emotions." He shivers a little at the thought, and then rolls his eyes. "We never even kissed."

"It's because you're so amazing, you inspire complete fealty with or without your lips sealing the deal," I tease him.

"Good lord. You could enjoy this a little less."

"Yes, and you could let me out of this beautiful cage," I narrow my eyes, and set my jaw. I know at this point that I have absolutely no case, or chance, but a few more jabs make me feel better and worse at the same time.

Maxon sighs and stands, "I'm not going to argue this anymore, America. I'm going to finish getting ready." I turn back toward my food, chastened.

Minutes later he emerges from his closet, putting the final touches on his official military uniform. I remember the first time I saw him in his dress jacket. I thought he glittered, and he looks no less handsome this morning. Without thinking, I stand up and it takes everything I have not to salute. The sarcasm and irritation from earlier evaporates. After all, he is doing this for our family, for me. He looks up and sees me smiling at him, and his smile spreads across his face. All is forgiven.

I cross the room, meeting him at the bedroom door and taking his hand in mine. "I love you," I whisper, and I stand of tiptoe to kiss him. He returns the kiss, light and sweet.

"And no matter what you see or hear, I love you. So much." He reinforces his statement by pressing his lips to mine again.

I straighten a medal that had gone askew. "Ready?"

"Well, let's see if I remember my new mindset: my closest ally is now enemy number one; your brother is my long-lost confidante; my father was a compassionate man and dynamic ruler inspiring others at every turn; and my wife has been critically injured and I am, apparently, okay with it." He sighs, "I'm ready as ever."

"Maxon," I say, as he turns to leave.

"Yes, love?" His voice is hopeful that I will give him a good reason to avoid going downstairs.

I pluck some yellow roses from a nearby arrangement and hold them out, "Don't forget to bring a gift for your newest dear." My grin assures him I am not resentful.

He grins back and takes them, throwing out, "Yellow. She always did like yellow," over his shoulder as he disappears down the corridor.

* * *

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**Thanks again for reading! XOXO SJ**


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N**

**And, Daphne's here! Enjoy and thanks for reading! -SJ :)**

* * *

Briefly, I consider staying in my pajamas and robe all day. Then I decide, at Mary's urging, to prepare as if it were a typical day. A typical day where the woman who is intent on my death is in my home is definitely a day to wear pants.

I stand back and view myself in the mirror, slim black pants pair with a light blue linen shirt. I roll up the sleeves and unbutton a few buttons, another way my husband has rubbed off on me. Mary insisted on putting my hair up, but I consider pulling out the pins and braiding it down my back instead. Ultimately, I decide to leave it, as she did take the extra time, and I know I am not easy to be with right now.

"America?" I hear Georgia calling my name from the common room. She smiles as I enter, "There you are. I brought popcorn!" She turns and switches on the television, and we view the small receiving parlor. It's empty, but ready for guests. Chairs and small sofas are arranged around a viewing screen. Light refreshments are on tables in the perimeter of the room.

I join her on the couch, "Isn't it a little early for popcorn?"

"It's not for eating," she explains.

Cocking my head, I question, "Then what's it for?"

"Throwing. I have a feeling it will be for throwing." I laugh and toss a few pieces at her.

After a quick knock at the door, Avery enters. "Your Majesty, the French delegation has arrived. The king thought you would like to know."

"Thank you, Officer." He bows slightly and returns to his post.

On screen, Maxon enters the parlor, flanked by both Aspen and Carter. He's still carrying the yellow roses, and as the other men take their places, he roams the room. His nervousness rubs off on me and I grab Georgia's hand as my stomach churns.

Daphne appears at the door, escorted by her husband Frederick. I take a second to really look at him: Frederick is almost the direct opposite of Maxon. Dark where Maxon is light, and while they are both tall, Frederick is so tall he is imposing. His breadth that used to be completely muscle when he was younger has turned slightly softer, especially around his abdomen. But his suit jacket cannot completely disguise the power of the shoulders contained within it. And while Maxon's hair has kept its honey color, Frederick's is peppered with gray. They have been married almost as long as Maxon and I.

I see, rather than hear, Maxon greet them both and Daphne turns to Frederick. I scrabble for the remote, pressing up on the volume button. Her expressive voice asks him to double-check on the luggage in their room, but it is clear that it is not simply a suggestion.

My jaw drops a little at her commanding tone, and Georgia comments, "Well, yes, ma'am." She nudges me with her elbow, "What do you know about the Queen of France?"

"Besides Kota's confession, not much more than what Maxon has told me over the years. She professed undying love for him at his nineteenth birthday party. Which, being Maxon, he was completely surprised by and didn't handle particularly well. She calls us with what used to be amusing regularity, until last week, of course."

I can't tear my eyes from the screen as Frederick leaves, and Daphne takes the yellow roses then Maxon's arm. "You remembered!" she croons. "Yellow roses are my favorite."

"I wanted to show you how glad I am that you're here," he murmurs. I turn up the volume even further. Nice try.

He guides her to a small sofa toward the front of the room, as she responds, looking up at him through her lashes, "I will always be here for you." She wraps both arms around his elbow as they sit.

Georgia huffs, "I am sure you will, dear. I'm sure you will. Are you certain you want to do this, America?"

"If you touch that remote, I will be forced to use some of my training on you," I say, through clenched teeth, my eyes fixed on the screen. I sit on the edge of my seat, spine straight.

"Don't forget who _is teaching you_ those moves," Georgia retorts, but almost immediately softens, "Hard to watch is an understatement, isn't it?"

"How is your wife?" Daphne asks, taking the hand closest to her.

"My wife? Oh. America is still in a coma. It is very sad," Maxon says flatly. "As you can tell, I am horribly distraught."

Daphne giggles lyrically, "Maybe I can comfort you?" She places a hand on his cheek and leans closer to him; I spring from my seat, fists clenched taking the first two steps toward the hallway door.

Nicoletta breezes in to the room, "Oh, King Maxon! I was hoping to have a word about the Napoli Treaty. Do you have a minute before the meeting begins?"

I exhale, as the Premier of Germany and the delegation from Swendway follows Nicoletta into the room. Daphne looks confused, and Maxon says, "Of course you understand, when something goes awry, I enlist the help of all my allies. War is a decision that impacts us all." He stands, "Please excuse me, as I greet my other guests, my dear."

"Yes, of course," she replies as Frederick reappears. Instead of taking a seat beside her, he turns to the back of the room and pours a cup of coffee. He stays standing. I see Aspen raise his hand to his ear piece, and turn his back on the crowd. Moments later Avery pokes his head into the room.

"Yes, Avery?"

"Your Majesty, Commander Leger would like me to let you know that the king is sorry." Georgia throws back her head, laughing.

"Is that all, Officer?"

"No, Your Majesty," Avery swallows, and looks more than a little uncomfortable.

"Well, continue, then."

"He also says to 'Sit back down and stay away from the door.'" He nods, and quickly leaves the room again.

"Avery!" I call, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Officer Avery, who else is outside there with you?"

"Campbell and Pearson."

"Ah, yes. And they're well trained?" I ask.

"Of course, if you don't mind me saying, Officer Carter and I trained them ourselves for your personal guard. Though, they are new to the rotation."

"Then please stay. Who knows when Commander Leger will think it necessary to send me another condescending message?" I see Georgia nod in agreement. She's enjoying this a little too much.

"As you wish," he replies, and takes a position behind the couch.

"Avery, please sit," I smile at him. He has been my guard for so long, sometimes I feel his formality is over-the-top. But Aspen explained his loyalty reaches back to the Selection when I ran for Marlee during her caning. Since he prefers not to break formality, I don't push him, usually. Having him stand behind me right now however is straining my rapidly fraying nerves.

I turn my attention back to the screen, and see the rest of our allies gather. Maxon returns to the front of the room, and welcomes the group. "Before we begin the discussion of the matter at hand today, I thought I would show a video of interest to all of us." Using the small remote in the palm of his hand, he dims the lights and begins the recording, seating himself beside Daphne again. Bariel's face fills the screen, and she begins to speak. Georgia and I have both seen and read the confession, so we are free to people-watch while we listen again. Even with the faint light, Daphne's surprise is difficult to hide.

Georgia narrows her eyes, and leans forward a little but she says nothing. Bariel shares that she connected with Daphne in France. In fact, Daphne introduced her to her husband Alec, the same man who worked with Clarkson to command the Southern Rebels. The Rebels existed only to keep Clarkson in power and followed his orders. Alec shot Maxon and was under orders to kill me, and Queen Amberly was unfortunate collateral damage. She wasn't to be targeted, but also shouldn't be expressly saved. Bariel confessed to it all, and blamed Alec and Daphne for threatening the lives of her two young boys if she refused to do as she was told. Didasko followed orders directly from Sota, and she arranged the attack on the training center in Bonita. She also revealed that by moving her to the detention center, her life had been saved the night of the attack on the palace. If she had been recovered by the team of Loyalists, she would have died. That was standing procedure. "King Clarkson kept a journal, and I delivered it to Daphne from Alec. In it, he explains how he and France were continuing the war in New Asia to wreak havoc on the economy and collapse it for the gain of Illea and France. He lists his connections and enemies within Illea. He shares the plans for the murder of his son. Daphne used the same network to expand her power into Illea with the hope of taking over its government through the fledgling parliament."

All eyes are on Daphne as the lights come up, and even we can see the sweat on her brow as she says, "I considered this woman my friend. Why would she say such things about me? Perhaps she was a plant by New Asia? You wouldn't believe the lies they told us." She grasps for Maxon's arm, "You know I would never support such a far-fetched plan! What proof is there besides this so-called confession?"

As if on cue, Prime Minister Li and Elise enter the room. Li asks, "Please explain these lies we are telling you, my friend?" Daphne begins to sputter, as Li shares about the so-called "Illean" camp that speaks fluent French and was raided overnight. The noise-level in the room increases ten-fold, as Daphne protests and everyone begins to talk at once.

Avery leans forward in his chair, intent on something in the left hand corner of the screen. "Why is he patting his jacket?"

"Officer, what?" I begin, and he puts a finger to his lips as he squints and then leaps into motion.

"He's on the move," Avery barks, heading to the door. And on the screen, we see Aspen and Carter moving inconspicuously toward the exit, while Frederick heads off-screen. They know they can't leave Maxon unprotected, and their eyes reflect their frustration while their faces are composed, even as they whisper into their ear pieces. "Campbell, Pearson, you're with the queen. Don't worry, Commander Leger, I'm headed to intercept him now. Do we have anyone with eyes on him?"

I sit wide-eyed, watching Avery shift modes.

"Where does Frederick think he's going?" Georgia wonders.

We both come to the answer at the same time, only I say it aloud in complete and utter disbelief, "The journal. Clarkson's journal is back in the palace!"

* * *

**jthornestudent: Thanks! Hope this installment was satisfying. :)**

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**_Thanks again for reading and reviewing!-SJ_**


	42. Chapter 42

A/N

Only one chapter after this one... Hope you enjoy reading! I've appreciated your feedback. :) -SJ

* * *

I throw open the door, knocking Pearson off balance as I dart down the hallway. "America, slow down," Georgia follows behind me, as Campbell and Pearson work to catch up to both of us.

"Can't." I palm my weapon, just in case we run into Frederick before Avery does. I know the men behind me won't make me shoot anyone again, but they may not have that choice. I wonder when I will feel safe enough to not carry a gun in the palace.

"America. It's not going to help anyone if you go barging into somewhere and actually land yourself in a coma."

I slow down just enough to let her catch up. "You used to be faster than me, what happened?"

"You usually don't have such a head start!"

I just snort in reply and lead the way to the guest wing. We both know exactly where the French delegates are staying, because we assigned their suites. They are the farthest guest rooms from mine, and if Aspen's team did their job, they are currently empty.

I throw open the door, and stand with my hands on my hips as I orient myself. Daphne had not been in the room yet, and the luggage actually sits open on the bed. Their personal assistants were surely unpacking as they were detained.

Georgia looks at me, "Now what?"

"Maxon told me that Clarkson carried a book in his inside front suit pocket. It went everywhere with him. So, that's what we are looking for. Something small enough to fit in a jacket pocket and somewhere in this mess of luggage." I turn to the guards, "Campbell. Pearson." They nod, wordless, and resume their watch.

We systematically go through each suitcase and garment bag. The French, apparently, do not pack light. But we are empty-handed. "Again." We begin again, when a leather attaché case at the desk catches my attention. It is in the seat of the chair, and I had to be at a very specific angle to see it. I slide my hand into the front pocket, and am rewarded with a small brown moleskin book. That wasn't really hidden at all. They weren't expecting any resistance. The pages are gilt-edged and the handwriting is Clarkson's. I hold it up to Georgia, "This is it."

I flip to a random page and read aloud: _"Studying the strategy of Gregory Illea has served me well. Money and fear. I'm using the wealth of this nation to create the fear that proves the need for the caste system and the legacy of my reign. This should silence the naysayers. They don't want the obvious anarchy of the Southern Rebels to take over the entire country. And they don't need to know that I'm pulling the strings. Of course there may be collateral damage—but such is war."_

Further in I find: "_Newsome will not agree to work within the parameters I set. I can't remove his caste because he has too many connections that would push against me. I will have to find another way to show my displeasure. Lucky that his daughter is representing Clermont in the Selection."_

And, the final entry, "_I hoped against hope that the soft heart of my son would harden as he aged. But, he insists on looking for the peaceful instead of the powerful; justice instead of might. I regret that he is not strong enough to rule the country I have built for him. But what must be done must be done. Tomorrow, I will mourn a son, but secure my power world-wide. It is a worthy sacrifice."_ Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but I hold them back.

Georgia wraps me in a hug, "He was truly an evil man."

I draw a purposeful breath. "We don't have time for tears, yet," I declare, squaring my shoulders and raising my chin. And I walk resolutely out of the room, down the stairs, and to the receiving parlor. Georgia and the guards follow behind, not even attempting to stop me.

When I enter the room, everyone is listening to Kota give his confession. No one but Aspen and Carter gives any notice as I slip in to the back and take my place where I belong, beside my husband. And, when Maxon sees me appear and simply places an arm around my back, they aren't in a position to do anything about it. "I'm sorry," I whisper and place the journal into his hand. "Here's your evidence."

"I expected you long ago," Maxon mumbles back, barely moving his lips. He pulls me tighter, a grin ghosting his mouth.

Two young guards flank Frederick and Daphne. Carter stands behind them, a hand on Frederick's shoulder. Kota's confession echoes Bariel's, except he explains how he kills Stavros and allows the palace to be attacked on Calix and Abrielle's birthday. He finishes with the part about being in love with Daphne and the plan to eliminate the King of France. As Maxon brings the lights back to full strength, Frederick's booming voice exclaims, "I am glad I crushed his hand! Daphne, is this true? You were planning to kill me?"

"We have a daughter together, Frederick!" Daphne's face is tear-streaked and wild. She just watched fifteen years of work come down around her shoulders.

"And that is not an answer!" His exclamation reverberates throughout the small space. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says, contritely. "Please allow me to go with these guards to my guest room, and I will provide you with all the evidence you require. I only ask that you spare my life, for my child's sake."

"Frederick, you coward," Daphne hisses, "Face your death honorably."

Maxon steps back to the front of the room, "No one will die here, today." He holds up the journal, so everyone can see. "We have had enough death in this palace, in this country to last a lifetime. Dare I say, we've had enough throughout the world?" There are nods and noises of agreement around the room. "Daphne, we are not here today to put you to death. But we are here to put you off of your throne. As an international alliance of nations, we have a responsibility even to your citizenry to avoid war. But, if you will not allow us to depose you, then we will all work together to eliminate all visages of France. We humbly ask you to spare your people."

Daphne refuses to answer, choosing instead to spit in Maxon's general direction. Frederick speaks again, "We will come to agreeable terms, and step away from power. We do not wish war. Now, if we could be excused to our quarters for a time? My wife and I have much to discuss."

Maxon nods. They both stand and the guards begin to lead them out of the room. As Daphne passes me, it is like she notices me for the first time. She cries out from the back of her throat and lunges. The guards and Frederick underestimate her desperation to get to me. The hands around my throat are surprisingly strong, but she is off her balance. I am hardly thinking about what I am doing as I bring my fist up into her face to break her grip. My adrenaline rushes as I watch her crumple to the floor, blood streaming from her nose.

I step back, allowing the guards to pull Daphne to her feet and keeping myself from hitting her again. Frederick inclines his head in a small bow, and two additional sets of guards meet the group at the door. Knowing they will be confined is a relief, but realizing this part of our history is closed is even better. Maxon is at my side again, and I assure him that she did not harm me.

Nicoletta's voice carries across the room, "Ah, Queen America. I am so happy to see that a coma couldn't keep you away from our meeting. How dedicated you are! Welcome back!"

* * *

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Totalbooknerd13: Well, maybe not quite... Thanks for reading! :)

Strike OOO: Thanks-I think they have to laugh or they can't get through the day. Glad you're enjoying it! :)

nappyninja: Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Thank you for reading. :)

I can't believe this book is almost finished... *sniff* Thanks for reading and reviewing. It means a lot! -SJ


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N**

**Thank you all so much for reading this story. I appreciate your support! I left a longer note at the end. Happy reading! -SJ :)**

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I wake because someone is watching me, "Really, Maxon, is this going to happen every morning now?"

Maxon is propped on his elbow, an arm slung low across my waist. "I need a reason to look at my beautiful wife?"

"I guess I can't argue with that logic. Feel free, but I am going back to sleep." I close my eyes. Last night had, of course, been a late one, full of meetings and paperwork. I fought sleep, but eventually succumbed while Maxon read his father's journal. Today promises to be just as busy.

The former royal family of France will be under forced seclusion on a French island not far from the coast of Italy in the Tyrrhenian Sea. It will be a beautiful house arrest. Their daughter will be allowed to return to French society at eighteen. Everyone agreed that Princess Nicoletta should help lead France in an advisory role, with Elise to assist, as the cabinet decides its next steps. Luckily, the French cabinet is being extremely cooperative. Nicoletta is the best candidate simply because she abhors the thought of actually ruling, and relishes the idea that it will be temporary. She will report directly to the Alliance.

Kota will be sentenced to life in prison, as will Alec and Bariel. Though they committed high treason, we feel there has been enough death. August and Aspen are making short work of investigating and, when necessary, interrogating and detaining the rest of Clarkson's list. I do not relish telling mother about Kota, and will enlist Maxon to soften the blow.

Tomorrow, the children will return from Italy with the rest of the family and staff. We will continue to build our country's capacity to sustain a parliament, and I daresay we will never take our safety and security as a matter-of-course again. Aspen always did an impeccable job of eliminating threats before they reached us, but we may not always be so lucky. August and Georgia will join our staff permanently.

My eyebrows rise in surprise as Maxon's fingertip trace my jawline. "I thought we agreed to let me sleep."

"I did no such thing. But, you're awake now?" Maxon chuckles as I blush. "I'll take that as a yes." My blue eyes meet his brown ones, and he softly kisses me. "Good morning."

There are worse ways to wake up. I look at his face, and despite knowing how he spent several hours late last evening, the furrows that seemed to take up permanent residence across his forehead are finally smooth. I see the book near his pillow and gesture to it. "I'm sorry I fell asleep." I hate that I left him alone.

His resolutely shakes his head, "I'm surprisingly nonplussed. I know that my father lost his faith in me because I was too good at my job, not because I was miserable at it. Nothing he did or planned surprises me anymore; the last few years before his death make more sense. All those trips to France…" He trails off and I know he's gone back in time for a bit in his mind. He makes his way back to me. "And, his plot to kill me? He brought me close several times with his own hand and rather enjoyed it, I think."

I suck in air at his frank tone and observe his face. He is truly numb. When he's ready, I'll be here. I change the subject, "Did Mary bring the tray?"

Maxon couldn't hide the surprise in his voice, "Are you hungry?"

"No, but if you're going to wake me, I'm going to have some juice." For some reason that answer causes him to laugh outright, and I look at him questioningly, "Why is that so funny?"

"Do you really not know?" He pulls me to him. He can't contain his grin, and his eyes are dancing as he looks at me.

"Know what?"

"America," he kisses my forehead and then each eyelid and the tip of my nose, "I can't believe _I'm_ the one telling _you_. Love, when's the last time you felt like having a real breakfast with me?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" I stop and look at him, and the joy he cannot contain. "I can't remember. We've been running from meeting to meeting and place to place. And, I've been so tired with all the stress and worry." He touches a hand to my abdomen and I meet his gaze, "You think I'm?"

He nods, "Better than that, I know you are, love." Suddenly, I'm grinning, too.

"Doc." I should have known. I can't believe I've been busy enough to miss something this important. But, after the last few weeks we've had, it's probably just as well.

"Yes, Doc. I've suspected for the last three weeks. Confirmed yesterday morning." He leans over and kisses me, achingly sweet, then folds me back against his chest, resting his hand protectively on my stomach. I'm already looking forward to seeing him as he meets his new son or daughter.

"Maxon, you're happy?"

"America, our life is so much more than just happy. I'll never forget that very first night in the garden. How intriguing that you would reject everything I stood for, but help me find my own strength. You challenge me and support me. You're my catalyst. And, when my world is crashing around my ears you still center me. Everything I do is for you. Sometimes a little misguided, sometimes downright stupid, sometimes magnificent. But always for you."

As we take comfort in each other's arms, I let my thoughts drift through our time together. We've learned so much since that walk down the aisle. How loneliness can become a habit. How our pride can rip our love away. How one little action or question can put everything back in its place or send everything around us tumbling down. How we continually choose each other. How this solace is all we need to overcome any fear and uncertainty.

_How this is our own kind of happily ever after, after all. _

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PEETAMELLARKLOVER123: Thank you so much! :)

AcademicGirl: I know. It was hard to post! But, onward and upward, right? Have you ever watched Book Hangover by Epic Reads? The whole reason we all write these anyway... :)

Maxon's dearest: I know-she is just one of my favs! :)

The Devil Wears Westwood: I know. One day in the next year, he is just going to have a breakdown... and it will be well-deserved! :)

agb1700: You are so sweet. Read below about the sequel possibility. I've really appreciated your reviews and support-it was amazing! (Or should I say, AMAZINGER? ;) XOXO

BlueGirl 1234: I am very flattered, Thanks so much! :)

Strike OOO: I didn't really like Daphne either-obviously. But, she became weirdly obsessed with Maxon to the point of ruthlessness. And, Frederick, initially in it for the power, did care for her. And he definitely loves their daughter.

SelectionLoverForever: Thank you so much-let me know if you'd like a sequel. :)

Prnamber3909: I so love her and her issues... :)

Guest: See below, but probably the beginning of August. Thanks for reading! :)

jthornestudent: Thanks! You have been such a faithful reader. I can't believe it's over, either!

babefangirl: *fistbump* I know.

Totalbooknerd13: And hard, too...

Kmerebird: Thanks so much for your kind words. I am really flattered. Good suggestion, that may be incorporated into the sequel. :)

L52: *holds pages out like a peace offering* Sequel? Thanks for reading! :)

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_Thank you all for your support through reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. Each and everyone of your comments was anticipated and highly appreciated. This work was my first fanfic, and was going to be complete in and of itself. I have been asked to consider a sequel. And, I think that I may have an angle that makes sense and will be a bit different. The working title for now is _**ASSURANCE**_. In a quick summary, _**Calix has broken with royal tradition and attended university, delaying his Selection with the blessing of his parents. As the crown prince, and now a recent graduate, he is excited to return and train side-by-side with his father and mother, as the country prepares for its first provincial elections ****_and_**** its first Selection in 27 years. What obstacles could keep him from fulfilling his destiny as he always planned?** _I like to update every day, and my SO has been wanting me to work on an original work with him. We've decided to go ahead and put it out for the world on Wattpad… So, I am thinking _**ASSURANCE **_would begin in August. Let me know if you'd read if I continue the story. Thanks again for reading_ **AFTER**!_ It has been great whether you want a sequel or not! _

_–SJ :)_


	44. Chapter 44

**Hi, Everyone! I have decided to include the first part of ASSURANCE here. The complete first chapter will be available sometime within the next two weeks. I hope you enjoy it. If you'd like, comment on whether the story should continue. :) As always, thanks for reading! -SJ :)**

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_Dearest Calix Shalom,_

_You'll have to excuse me, but I can't help but become nostalgic today. It's hard for me to believe that twenty-two years ago, your father and I were just bringing you into the world. I was no older than you are now. And here you are about to graduate to a new life as an adult! Forgive me for the cliché, but it all happened so quickly. In what seemed like blinks of our eyes, you were walking, talking, conspiring against your poor sister with your brothers following every move, requesting to attend University, now poised to graduate with honors. _

_The crown is a heavy weight, and every step you have taken has prepared you to carry it. The dedication to your people is honorable, my son. The choices you have made so far have not been easy. But the choices you made have been right ones, made out of a deep love for Illea and respect for yourself and our family. _

_I am so proud of the man that you have become. I am so proud of the man that you will be._

_All my love,_

_Mama_

I run my fingers over Mom's looping script, close the birthday card, then place it gently on the bedside table. I ease into bed, pulling the slumbering dark-haired woman back into the crook of my arm. It's as if she is made to fit there. Closing my eyes, I try to push away the thoughts that flood my head. The main one on repeat: _My love has never felt like it has been mine to give away. What will my parents say when I tell them there will be no Selection?_

If Mom could see me right now, she might not be so proud.

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Responses to your comments on AFTER: First of all, so many of you are repeat reviewers, and I appreciate that so much. I would have never thought to write a sequel without your support. Thanks so much! XOXO -SJ

coralsea25: Thanks! :)

Strike OOO: Thanks for your suggestions! And your reviews were always so positive, and your belief in my ability to write a good story. Hope you like the chapter portion! :)

SelectionLoverForever: Thanks so much-glad you enjoyed it! :)

The Devil Wears Westwood: I will try to get parts of the story out sooner, but August is a goal I know I can reach. The original story will be on Wattpad soon, and is called THAT WHICH KNOWS. I'll pm you a link when it comes out. :)

sushi: You are so sweet-thanks! :)

fantasybookgirl: Wow-thanks. Let me know what you think! :)

Bookphanatic: Thanks! Hopefully, this chapter section does Calix justice... :)

luv2read4reading: Thanks! :)

agb1700: I am updating my profile, just for you. Thanks for all the support-it is so motivating! You're still AMAZINGER. ;)

kaylie2000: Thanks! Here's the first bit... :)

Molly: LOL-thanks! :)

waterpolo3: Made me giggle-thanks. :)

jthornestudent: Wow! Well, here you go! :)

Totalbooknerd13: Thanks! :)

Prnamber3909: *pats back* There, there. Thanks for all your fun reviews! Hope you like the first section of chapter 1. :)

Guest: Thanks so much. How sweet! :)

BlueGirl 1234: Great! Hope you like the first bit! :)

Happy reading! -SJ


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